The Wolf with the Red Ribbon
by G4M3R
Summary: DA2. Novelization of a rogue play through with new twists, Varric-like embellishments, and rich description. FemHawkexFenris. Rated M for upcoming adult content and harsh language. Not strict to storyline, and I promise you'll love it. :)
1. Prologue

Prologue

_ The Blight, an army of twisted, misshapen, specters of demonically possessed men, had destroyed Lothering, a city in Southern Ferelden, a few months ago. The Hawke family (consisting of mother Leandra and her two daughters, Aria and Bethany), plus one refugee soldier named after the legendary Orlesian woman Knight Aveline, docked in the port of the city Kirkwall, in the lowly, poverty stricken area not affectionately known as the Gallows. After a deal is struck by the Hawkes' slippery gambler of an uncle, Gamlen Amell, the Hawkes and the soldier tagalong spend a year in indentured servitude under the command of the elven smuggler, Athenril. Our story begins after the Hawkes have been in Kirkwall for a year, having fulfilled their terms with Athenril, and with a fortuitous meeting between the glib, charming, and surprisingly beardless dwarven merchant prince, Varric Tethras, and the rising star of Kirkwall; a silver-haired, alabaster-skinned, tawny-eyed Aria Hawke. Aria and her sister, the apostate mage, Bethany, had just been denied the chance to climb aboard the expedition one Bartrand Tethras was planning to enter the Deep Roads. It was their best chance at reclaiming the Amell's nobility and securing their rightful place in the mage-hating metropolis of Kirkwall._

The strawberry-blond dwarf hailed Aria Hawke, introducing himself as he tossed her missing coin purse to her, a charming smile lighting his lips. The cut purse who had snatched it from Aria took this chance to escape. The dwarf sauntered over to them, his eyes benevolent. Bethany stepped behind Aria, years of evading strangers for fear of discovery coming into practice.

"Varric Tethras, at your service. I apologize for Bartrand," the dwarf said as he reached them. "He wouldn't know an opportunity if it hit him square in the jaw."

Aria eyed him warily, taking in every detail of his appearance and paying special attention to the skin around his eyes—the subtle expression changes there were tells of a person's true intent, especially should that intent not match their spoken words. If she had learned only one thing about this city in the year she'd spent here, it was that no one offered aid unless there was a catch. A gigantic, razor sharp, multi-hooked catch.

"But you would?" Aria cautiously asked, a hint of sarcasm seeping into her tone. She sardonically arched a silvery brow, sizing him up.

"I would," Varric replied congenially, a dash of laughter in his voice. He smiled and inclined his head, looking back at where his brother stood arguing with another dwarf. "What my brother doesn't know is that we need someone like you," he continued, and she felt in her gut he was being sincere. "He would never admit it either—he's too proud. I, however, am quite practical."

Aria figured she'd take a bite out of the bait he was offering. "You're part of Bartrand's venture?" she tentatively asked, crossing her arms over her chest and staring impassively down at the dwarf.

"That's right!" he smoothly stated. "The Deep Roads wouldn't normally be my thing, but I can't allow the head of our family to go down there alone." He shifted his posture a little, making Aria slightly nervous. "So as you might imagine, I have more than a passing interest in this expedition's success."

The elder Hawke was still suspicious. Aria needed to feel this Varric character out a little more before she was going to put any stock in his claims.

"What makes you so certain we can help?" Aria hedged. "You know nothing about us."

Varric smiled all too knowingly and it did nothing to soothe Aria's singing nerves. "Oh, on the contrary—you've made quite a name for yourself over the last year. The Coterie has been squeezing smugglers out left and right, and the only group to survive owes it all to you two. The name Hawke is on many lips these days. Not bad for a Fereldan fresh off the boat."

"You must have heard of my sister as well, then," Aria stated, seeking to ferret out what other information the dwarf had on them.

"Only a little," Varric allowed, his delivery cautious. "She is certainly welcome to come, but I'll leave that up to you."

"Frankly, I'd rather you take the credit," Bethany quickly said, casting a wary glance at her sister.

"Madam! Your secrets are safe with me," Varric was quick to allay their growing concern. It was clear that he meant them no harm.

"Find out what he's offering," Bethany said under her breath so that only Aria would hear. "We need a way into this expedition."

Aria turned to the dwarf again, nodding her agreement with her sister. "You're going awfully far out of your way just to hire another guard," she said after a moment.

"We don't need another hireling—we need a partner," Varric said, motioning for them to follow him over to the alley so that eavesdroppers would be less likely to drop on this conversation. "The truth is, Bartrand's been tearing his beard out trying to fund this thing on his own but he can't do it," he softly told them once they were in the alley. "Invest in the expedition. Fifty sovereigns, and he can't refuse. Not with me there to vouch for you."

"Why would you stick your neck out for a complete stranger?" Aria asked, folding her arms over her chest once more and quirking a brow.

"I'd rather take a chance on someone with your reputation than head into the Deep Roads unprepared. And besides, we'd be your partners," Varric answered, his expression earnest. He sighed, pinching his wide chin between his thumb and forefinger. His fingers were long, for a dwarf. "I'm willing to give a little trust if you are," he said at last.

Aria hadn't gotten this far in life without being able to judge people's motives. The last words he spoke were exactly what she needed to hear in order to partake in this gamble he offered. It was her turn to sigh.

"I hope there's more to this. Like how I am supposed to get that much coin together," she finally said.

A wide grin split Varric's rather handsome face. "You need to think big!" he said, spreading his arms and looking to the sky. "There's only a brief window after a Blight when the Deep Roads won't be crawling with darkspawn. The treasure you find down there could set you and your family up for life!"

Aria looked to Bethany, wondering if she was thinking the same thing. They both hated having to live with Gamlen in the old Lowtown slums. Mother deserved much better than that after all they'd endured. It weighed heavily on her mind.

"It won't be easy, but it's a chance," Bethany cautiously said, her eyes pleading. "I think we have to take it. Better to work our way into the expedition than sit around waiting to be thrown into the Gallows."

Yes, there was that. Poor Bethany had so much to fear. Aria did not like the choices they were given. Deep Roads or the iron fist of the Kirkwall Circle of Magi. Why had everything become so Maker-damned bleak all of the sudden?

"We work together, you and I, and before you know it, you'll have all the capital you need," Varric chimed then, seeing that he was finally gaining ground with this recalcitrant potential business partner. "What do you say?"

Aria looked to Bethany again, whose eyes pleaded with her. She smiled broadly and turned to look out at the alley. "It's not like I had anything better planned."

Varric laughed. "Perfect! Kirkwall's crawling with work. You set aside some coin from every job, and you'll have the money in no time," he gushed.

"Maybe Aveline can find us some work. She's got a position with the city guard now," Bethany suggested, hooking her arm in Aria's.

"We should talk privately when you get the chance," Varric said, walking with them back out into the square. "In the Hanged Man, maybe—I'll be there when I'm not with you. Now, let's go see what trouble we can stir up."

Despite her reservations about the dwarf, Aria couldn't help but like him. He was charming, suave, but honest. It was a rare combination. He was gifted with his words. She just hoped he was as gifted with that crossbow he carried on his back as he was with his words. She had a feeling they would need it.


	2. Chapter ONE

**Chapter One**

It was hardly past noon when they finished speaking. Aria felt her spirits lifting. If they could just get the coin together, they'd be well on their way to righting the wrongs Gamlen had done in their mother's absence. They parted ways for the day, Aria explaining the need to talk this over with their matriarch before making any more headway on the matter.

"You aren't really going to tell Mother, are you?" Bethany said as the dwarf walked away in the direction of the Hanged Man.

"No. Although we really need to think this out. I have no doubt that Varric's intent is honest. But I don't know how far we can trust him. And we've got his brother to worry about. I don't like Bartrand."

"Oh come now, sister!" Bethany laughed. "You can't tell me you aren't just absolutely tickled about this turn of events!"

Aria smiled wickedly. "Tickled? Bethany—that sounds…dirty."

"You know what I mean," she said, rolling her eyes. "I understand you don't like not being the mastermind, but I'm sure you'll outfox them if they try to take advantage of us."

"That's not really what worries me," Aria seriously stated, all humor aside.

"Then what?"

"I don't want to take a chance at you being seized by the templars. Think of what that would do to Mother," the elder Hawke said, genuinely worried.

"Aria, I am more likely to be seized if I don't go," Bethany softly replied.

They had reached the steps leading up to Gamlen's filthy little hovel. Aria sighed. Her sister was of course, right. Now that they were back at Gamlen's, Aria didn't want to go inside. Bethany squeezed her arm reassuringly. Together, they walked up the steps and into the house.

"My children have been in servitude—_servitude_!—for a year!" the Hawke matriarch shouted as Bethany and Aria entered the door.

The sisters shot each other worried looks. Aria rolled her eyes in exasperation and walked up behind her mother. Gamlen and their mother had been at each other's throats lately, now that Bethany and Aria were done serving their time as smugglers under the employ of Athenril. They both had blood on their hands now, but at least it wasn't innocent blood.

"They should be nobility!" Leandra Amell-Hawke spat at her worthless brother.

"If wishes were poppy, we'd all be dreaming," Gamlen snidely replied.

Aria's lips turned up in her trademark sardonic smirk. "You mean, this is real?" she said, spinning around, her arms wide for effect. "No wonder I can't wake up."

Gamlen sneered at her. "And here I thought that Fereldan you ran off with was a mage, not a jester," he directed at Leandra, then turned to face Aria. "Your mother was supposed to marry the Comte de Launcet, and instead she ran off with some Fereldan apostate! You don't get to stay the favorite when you do that," he sniped.

"Where is Father's Will?" Leandra pleaded with her brother. "If I could just see for myself—"

"It's not here, all right?" Gamlen sniveled, cutting her off. "It was read, it went into the vault. No one needed to look at it again."

Aria stepped forward, sensing the fact that he was hiding something. It was definitely a big something. "That touched a nerve," she quipped, tawny eyes flashing. "What's in there that you don't want us to see?"

The barb worked. "Nothing!" Gamlen defensively shouted, glaring at her like a cornered animal. "But you won't be seeing the bloody thing. It's still locked up on the estate. And that's long out of my hands."

"You didn't take your parents' Will?" Bethany incredulously asked, her soft dark eyes wide with hurt.

"It was old news," Gamlen resignedly said. "You think I've been sitting here for twenty-five years waiting for Leandra to slink back?"

"Who bought the estate, Gamlen?" Leandra pleaded. "Perhaps I could speak with them. Was it the Reinhardts?"

Gamlen sneered at her again. "No one you know. Get used to Lowtown, Sister. That's where we're going to stay."

Bethany motioned to Aria and together they walked into the broom closet that served as their room. Bethany quickly closed the door and went over to the bunk bed they shared. She sat on the bottom bunk with a soft "hmph".

"So, I hate thinking badly of family, but… Did Uncle Gamlen seem a little slippery when he talked about Grandfather's Will?" she whispered after a moment. "If he say, 'invested' money that was meant to be Mother's, do you think he would tell us?"

Aria snorted. "We are talking about the same weasel, aren't we?"

Bethany moaned in trepidation.

"I want what's ours," Aria said after they'd brooded silently together for a few moments.

"Good," Bethany agreed. "I'm glad we agree. Gamlen told me he gave the estate as payment to some slaver who beat him at dice."

"He lost the mansion over a stupid game of dice? Maker help me, he's a bigger moron than I thought," Aria interjected, throwing her hands in the air and cursing at the ceiling.

"Just listen, Aria. Apparently our ancestral home is now a base for slavers from all over Thedas."

Aria laughed bitterly. "Oh, Gamlen couldn't have just sold himself and saved us all the trouble?"

Bethany giggled. "Are we talking about the same person? I mean, can you just imagine him sweeping and scrubbing floors for some Tevinter matriarch?"

They both burst into fits of giggles, sniggering at the image Bethany had called forth to their minds. It was a pleasant image. One that they both wished could come true at the moment. Hard labour was something Gamlen would never partake.

"Seriously though," Bethany continued after they'd stopped giggling. "Those scum have no right to our family's things. We should break in there, get the Will for Mother. I already talked to both of them about this. Gamlen said they guard the front entrance well. But Mother gave me her old key. She said it should unlock the cellar. Apparently, the sewers run right beneath the house."

"You've been a busy girl. Where was I?" Aria sarcastically asked, taking and examining the key Bethany held up for her.

"I think we should go tonight. Maybe even get Aveline in on it," Bethany suggested.

"Eh, it's worth a shot. Wicked Grace can wait I suppose. We need to speak with the cantankerous ginger anyhow," Aria agreed. "I don't know if we can do it tonight, but we'll definitely do it."

"You know she hates it when you call her that," Bethany twittered, snatching up her staff from where it had fallen onto the bed.

"And it only makes me that much more determined to call her that. Let's go. If I stay here any longer, I'm going to have Gamlen stuffed and mounted. And it won't be in any pose that could be remotely construed as dignified," Aria replied.

They left the house, Aria casting Gamlen a venomous glare before closing the door. She didn't care to stick around for the diatribe he launched at the closed door. She had had about enough of that weasel. He was greasier than a choleric dwarf's backside.

They walked past the Hanged Man and Aria decided to pay Varric a visit on her way up to Hightown. Bethany decided to stay outside, having an aversion to places where gossips ran amok, completely unchecked. It was only natural at this point.

Aria went to the bartender. "Where might I find Varric, serah?"

"Haven't seen you in here often, Hawke," the bartender said. "Name's Corff."

"Well, I can see anonymity is not something I can readily employ here," Aria jested, shaking the hand Corff extended. "Pleasure."

"It's all mine," Corff replied, going back to wiping out a glass. He set it on the bar. "Varric is over there. You walked right past him."

Aria turned to see where Corff indicated. Varric was grinning and shaking his head. She turned back to Corff. "Hit me with a pint, would you?" she said, putting down three coppers.

Corff handed her a tankard and she walked over to where Varric sat, still shaking his head. She grinned and slammed the tankard down, sitting across from him.

"I hope you're not so blind on all your endeavors," Varric laughed.

"Well, one cannot fault me for not seeing someone so short of stature," Aria replied, quirking one eyebrow playfully and taking a long draught from her mead.

Varric guffawed loudly. "A quick sense of humor. Have to respect that," he cajoled, offering her the rim of his glass.

She clinked hers against his and they both took impressive draws.

"So, here's the thing," he said, swiping at his top lip. "We need to find a way into the Deep Roads. Bartrand can lead us to the right place once we're down there, but we need a good entrance."

Aria sat back in her chair. "Any entrance will do, wouldn't it? Unless a dragon's sitting in it, I suppose."

Varric chuckled warmly. "We need an entrance that's close to our destination but isn't already plundered or filled with darkspawn. Fortunately, I've received some new information. There's a Grey Warden in the city. If anyone knows how to get down there, it'll be him."

She sighed heavily. "Are there any other options?"

Varric also sighed. "None at the moment. Bartrand had an entrance lined up, but it was a bust," he said, drinking from his pint. Aria also took a drink, surprised with how quickly she'd already drained it. "I'll keep looking, but if we don't find something, we'll have a fancy expedition with nowhere to go," he continued, standing.

Aria followed suit, finishing her pint. "Sounds like you have it all planned," she replied with a glib grin.

Varric bowed frivolously. "And that, messere, is why I'm here. Supposedly, this Grey Warden came in with some other Fereldan refugees not long ago. A Lowtown woman named Lirene has been helping the Fereldans. We talk to her, maybe we learn where he is. I'll keep after my contacts—see if I can drum up any other work."

"Mmm," Aria said, licking the last of the mead from her lips. "In the meantime, come with me. Bethany and I were on our way to pay Aveline a little visit—see if she has something for us."

"I knew I picked you for a reason," he chuckled, leaving a few coppers on the table for a tip.

They walked outside together and Bethany materialized from one of the nooks surrounding the Hanged Man. She smiled at Varric, who bowed and returned the smile. They headed up the steps leading towards Hightown together.

"You don't seem to like your brother very much," Bethany said as they began the ascent.

Varric chuckled wryly. "And here I thought it took blood magic to read minds."

"I had a twin brother, Carver. He used to nail my braid to the bed while I was sleeping. I never thought I'd miss him this much."

"Sorry about your brother," Varric replied, his inflection earnest. He smiled broadly, as though a pleasant thought occurred to him. "Hey, you want mine? I've got a spare…"

Bethany only chuckled.

"So this Aveline—she's a guardsman?" Varric asked as they passed the Hightown merchants.

Bethany laughed. "Call her that instead of the proper 'guardswoman', and she might knock a few inches off your height."

Varric winced theatrically. "What is it with your family's preoccupation with height?"

The mage turned and looked at her sister, her face aghast with horror. "You didn't!"

"He asked for it," Aria playfully shot back, clapping Varric on the shoulder in a friendly gesture.

Varric laughed. "No hard feelings. If you can't find anything better to joke about concerning dwarves, it's not really an insult to me."

Aria burst out laughing. "Ah, Varric. We'll get along just fine, you and I."

He grinned back at her. "Madam, I certainly agree."

They walked up to the Viscount's Keep, bouncing ideas for work off each other until they reached the Guards' quarters. Once inside, Aria looked for Aveline, finding the tall, lanky, red-headed woman standing in front of the duty roster. She was looking over patrols and seemed relatively oblivious.

"Aveline!" Aria announced herself, throwing her arms wide as though she expected to receive a hero's welcome.

"Hello, Hawke," Aveline replied without turning around.

"That's it?" Aria asked, feigning hurt.

"What?" Aveline asked distractedly, turning to face her. "Oh, right. Sorry, it feels like we just talked. I've been keeping an eye on you," she accusingly stated. "Information is one of the few perks of this job. Watch out for Bartrand. He's a son-of-a-bitch."

Aria crossed her arms over her chest and mock glared at her comrade. "You know, I can take care of myself without your hovering."

Aveline regarded her as though she was tired of dealing with her Fereldan fellow. "Saved me camping on your doorstep. After what we went through to get here…" she trailed off, a slight tremor running through her at the particularly distasteful memory. "I… Well… You're no child, but I take care of my friends. The places they have me patrolling, I've got time."

Aria smiled mischievously. "A person in your position seems like they might learn some profitable things."

Aveline exasperatedly sighed. "You know better than to ask that."

Aria's grin widened. "One day, you'll be frustrated enough to go for it." She knew Aveline. Idleness did not suit the busy-bodied, hard-nosed woman.

"It's like I'm sitting on my hands," she gushed, pacing in front of Aria, her expression vexed. "There are dangerous people in this city," she continued. "In fact, I might have a job for you. Let me know if you want to do a favor for Kirkwall. Otherwise, I'm here if you need me. Maker knows I could use more satisfying work."

Aria leaned against the wall and studied the warrioress for a moment. "Seems like Kirkwall suits you," she said.

"It has been a challenge. Lots of opportunity… If you're the type the locals want."

"Are you?" Aria challenged.

Aveline sighed, further evidence of her growing disquiet. "If you argue enough, you kind of convince yourself."

"If you have to convince yourself, you're kind of missing the point aren't you?"

"Hawke, what else could I do here that is within the arm of the law? I'm not a criminal like some people." She glared pointedly at both Aria and Varric. Varric feigned a wound to his heart but said nothing. He would have made an excellent diplomat.

Aria laughed. "I'm insulted. I'm not a criminal. There's nothing wrong with going where the work is, so long as no one gets killed in the process. And if they do, well—that's one less miscreant _you_ will have to worry about."

At this, Aveline chuckled. "You have always been so tricksy."

"Is it really that bad here?" Aria pressed. "This must be a very different pace from serving King Cailan."

"I loved that life," Aveline sadly allowed. "But there's a new King for a new Ferelden. Seems cocksure, but I guess he was there when the Archdemon fell. Can't fault an active hand."

Aria nodded her agreement.

"It's just one more change though," Aveline continued, unprodded. "The real end for me was Ostagar. You and Carver must have felt something similar." She checked Aria's expression, then apologetically added, "I don't know if that's right to say. I hardly knew him."

"Death on that scale…" Aria began, her tone much more somber than was the norm, "It certainly has a finality to it."

Aveline shook her head slightly. "Sometimes I wonder."

Aria sighed, not wanting to talk about it. Carver, Lothering… She didn't do so well dealing with pain of that magnitude. She sought a subject change, surmising that Aveline was experiencing the same discomfort.

"It's been a year settling in. Are you…all right?" Aria tested the waters.

"You don't need to coddle me. I am where I am. How close I hold my memories is my own business," she quipped.

Aria smiled sympathetically. "All right, Aveline. You have something worth doing?"

Aveline's expression darkened for a minute, then as she pondered Aria's question, she spoke. "My patrols may be empty walks in the dark, but there's something big coming up, and I could use you."

"Something big? Sounds right up our alley," Varric interjected.

Aveline pointedly ignored him and spoke to Aria. "An ambush. Probably for a caravan, although I can't find any shipments that match up. Doesn't matter though. Highwaymen waiting for someone to rob? I'm putting a stop to it, my district or not."

Aria smiled. This was the Aveline she knew and loved. "Well then. I'm in."

Aveline grinned broadly. "I knew I could count on you! They're hidden up Sundermount," she continued, relaying the details of their upcoming adventure. "Remote and rough, but we can make good time with a shortcut this side. And no, you can't run off and do it without me," she admonished.

Aria just smirked. Her friend knew her all too well.

"I trust you," she continued apologetically. "But I have to be there. You're acting on behalf of the guard."

"Well, let's get started then," Aria said, shrugging and looking towards the door.


	3. Chapter TWO

**Chapter Two**

The shortcut up Sundermount was not exactly what one could call easy going. It wasn't that Aria couldn't handle it. She was just in an ill-temper. It seemed that in this day alone, she'd had her whole world turned upside down. That wasn't exactly a bad thing either—the opposite of her position now was far preferable. Opposite of poor? Rich. Opposite of unknown? Famous—or infamous, but she was quite alright with that. Opposite of pissed-on Fereldan doglord refugee? Respected Kirkwall citizen. What she didn't like was traipsing around in the wilderness while she could be finding other paying work. This didn't seem to be the kind of thing that led to much coin.

"You're uncharacteristically quiet, Hawke. That bothers me," Aveline said, pulling Aria up over a particularly steep part of the mountain trail.

"Just thinking," Aria absentmindedly stated, her eyes going to Bethany, checking that her sister was ok.

"That's what worries me," Aveline groused, leading the way down a much more palatable path.

"I'm not plotting. There's a difference between thinking and plotting," Aria replied.

"Well, that makes all the difference," Aveline snidely commented. "We're getting close. Weapons at the ready."

Aria drew her daggers from their sheaths on her back and lithely swung some complicated kata with them before ceasing and holding at the ready. They rounded the next bend and surely enough, there stood the aforementioned highwaymen, prepared to loot and plunder the next hapless soul to cross their paths.

Except, this group of four souls was far beyond hapless. Aria tugged the little flask that hung at her belt. Her combat expertise could be classified as a rogue: A master of stealth and subterfuge. Rogues were as quick on their feet as they were with their wit. They often served as the tricksters, the decoys, and the assassins. Aria was quite adept in this class. She could pick almost any lock she came across, and if she couldn't, she learned quickly. She could do the same with most common booby traps. She was silent as a cat when she moved, even the deftest of eyes could not discern her location if she wished it. Besides all that, she was lethal with her twin daggers, quick, agile, and rarely missed her marks.

Bethany's prowess was, of course, magic. She could wield fire about as well as any dragon while healing almost any wound sustained in battle. She was also lethal with her staff. Aria had sustained many a bruise, both to skin and ego, from her little sister.

Brawn, strength, and thick skin were Aveline's contributions. She could parry and duel with the best of them. For the rest of them, she just bashed them with Wesley's shield. She also had a particular knack for drawing attention her way should the battle prove too much for either Aria or Bethany alone.

They launched into battle, Aria impressed with Varric's skill on the crossbow he called Bianca. He was deadly accurate and hard to reach. Aria grinned her bloodlust at him as she backstabbed a particularly cantankerous highwayman who sought to kill the other rogue.

"I had it handled, Hawke!" he yelled at her when the brigand fell. His sparkling caramel-colored eyes and grin said otherwise, offering his thanks.

"Sure you did," Aria muttered, turning to survey the ongoing battle.

Aveline was driving back several of the assassins away from Bethany, who launched firebolts and rockets of ice at them all the while. A group of the bandits tried to flank them, but Aria quickly dove in to eliminate that threat. She whirled and danced, evading and slashing like a little tornado of death and destruction.

In all her years spent in Lothering, she'd always enjoyed a good fight. Carver used to hate how she'd dodge him, only to playfully shiv him in the back with a practice sword. It was the maddening tactic of the rogue. They were evasive and fought dirty.

After most of the afternoon had passed, they'd finally managed to clear the ambush site. Aveline was nearly strutting, puffing her chest out like a cocky little bantam rooster as they made the trek back to the city. She and Varric bantered back and forth, exchanging their respective battle stories and fueling each other's egos. Great, Aria groused in her thoughts. The last thing either one of them needed was an ego boost.

"A Fereldan in the guard. What will they think of next?" Varric laughed as Aveline finished recounting the story of the darkspawn ogre she'd helped Aria kill back in Lothering.

"You have a problem with that?" Aveline challenged, her chin going up in spite.

"Me? My family's not native either. I'm just surprised. Lots of old prejudice in the guard," Varric congenially replied, his smile genuine.

"I'll give them plenty of reason to change their minds," Aveline promised.

"You know, it's possible they're just scared shitless of you. That's my theory, anyway," Varric said. Aveline only chuckled in response.

They all followed Aveline back to the city, the trek much faster in retreat than it had been going forward. As they strode up to Gamlen's hovel, Bethany was apologizing for the status the house was in. Aveline shrugged it off, saying she was headed to bed anyway and wouldn't be staying. Varric planned on staying for a few minutes to discuss something with Aria.

"Right, can't blame you there. You get to sleep in a place funded by the Viscount," Aria bitterly interjected.

"You could do worse, Hawke. It's a roof."

"You only say that because you don't have to sleep here anymore."

Aveline chuckled. "Jealousy doesn't suit you. You haven't the right colored eyes."

"Oho! The stick in the mud_ does_ have a sense of humour!" Aria laughed sarcastically, joined by Varric's tenor timbre.

"Good night, Aria, Bethany, Varric," she said, nodding to each in turn. "Be at the Keep in the morning and I'll get you your reward."

As soon as Aveline was out of earshot, Bethany held up the key their mother had given her. "Care to check it out this evening?"

Aria grinned broadly at her sister, swiping the key and pocketing it. "Let's go," she said, bounding back down the steps.

"Whoa, hold on. Fill me in," Varric said, trotting after them.

"You're welcome to come along, Ser Dwarf," Aria liltingly said, bumping her shoulder playfully into Bethany's.

Bethany smiled and looked over at the dwarf as he sidled up to her. "We're going to reclaim some of our family's property from the estate Gamlen gambled away. Namely our Grandfather's Will, since he seems so bound and determined for us not to see it."

"How can you be sure it's still there?" he asked, lovingly stroking the stock on Bianca, his beloved crossbow.

"We can't, but nothing ventured, nothing gained," Aria answered. "It shouldn't take long. We'll be but a few hours."

"Where exactly are we going? Hightown is the other way," Varric said as they descended the stairs to Darktown.

"There's an entrance from beneath in the sewers," Bethany explained. "We're going to use that to get into the estate."

"Ugh. I should have told Norah to have a bath ready for when I get back," Varric grumbled.

"We could be getting some coin for the expedition, Varric. Besides, the sewers will prepare you for the Deep Roads, if we ever get there," Aria said as they swiftly navigated Darktown's narrow, filth-ridden passages.

"Maker help us," Varric sighed, not at all looking forward to the expedition's dangers. He was all too happy to reap the profits, however.

They reached the sewer entrance and found the cellar door Mother had told Bethany about. Aria slipped the key into the lock and turned. The rusted mechanism broke free after a few hard twists and they pulled the door open.

The dank smell of fecal matter, dust, and mold assailed their noses and Varric gagged. Aria covered her mouth and nose with the kerchief she kept in her pocket, warding off as much of the stench as possible. They reached the finished part of the cellar, away from the sewers, and dispatched of the slavers there. It wasn't a hard fight by any means. Aria was actually a little disappointed. They quickly climbed up the steps to the Amell Vault, having found the key on one of the mages who worked under the slavers' employ.

Aria searched the room, saving the largest chest in the corner of the room for last. In the other chests and cupboards within the Amell Vault, she found a portrait of their mother, the Amell crest, and a fair bit of coin.

She picked the lock on the last chest, wrenching the lid open on severely rusted hinges. Bethany dug through it and squealed as she pulled an important looking scroll from within.

"This is it! Grandfather's Will! Mother needs to see this as soon as possible!"

Aria grinned broadly, feeling as though a small justice had just been accomplished. "We'll take it to her right now."

With renewed vigor, they raced back through the sewers up into Darktown, then into Lowtown. They escorted Varric to the Hanged Man before racing jubilantly home. The whole endeavor in the cellar had only taken an hour and a half, much to Aria's pleasure. She was fond of sleeping.

They burst through the door, hearing Gamlen and Mother talking across the room.

"So I'm just saying, blood's blood and all, but you are taking advantage of my hospitality," Gamlen said, his visage speaking of treachery and his voice that of a sniveling child trying to get away with something, "It's only fair if you make something of a…monthly contribution—"

"You sold my children into servitude!" Leandra shouted back at him, her voice rife with indignation. "Now you're asking me to pay rent?"

Gamlen's face flushed and he looked utterly sheepish. "Er…maybe just something to put towards food…"

At this, Aria cut in, angered hotly at the way her ungrateful, weasly uncle was trying to play her mother. "You should be paying us, Uncle. We found the Will."

Bethany unrolled the scroll and began to read to herself, a haughty expression on her beautiful face. "He forgave you, Mother. Grandfather left you everything. Here! Read it!"

Leandra took the scroll from her daughter, and Gamlen was absolutely squirming. "Er—ah—I should maybe—"

"To my daughter, Leandra, and all children born of her," Leandra began reading aloud, "The estate in Hightown and all associated revenues…"

Aria pointed to a paragraph on the parchment, then glared at her uncle, saying to her mother, "Check out the part where Gamlen is left only a stipend—to be controlled by you."

"Gamlen, how could you?" Leandra gently asked, her tone hurt but not condemnatory.

"You're the one who ran away, Leandra. What happened to 'Love is so much more important than money'?" he sniped in response.

"It is!" Leandra shot back.

"You didn't even come home for the funeral!" Gamlen counter-accused.

Leandra sighed in exasperation. "The twins were a week old!"

"We all have our burdens, Leandra," he whimpered unsympathetically. "Mine was looking after a life you abandoned. How long was I supposed to wait?"

Aria snorted. "I doubt you let the ashes get cold."

Gamlen shot her a particularly ugly look. "I took care of Father. I stayed! And on his deathbed, all he could talk about was Leandra. Look, Sister, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done it, but I did. And there's nothing I can do to get it back."

Ah, finally! An apology! Aria thought, looking back to her mother.

"I don't expect that, Gamlen," Leandra gently said. She went back to reading the will, her fingers caressing the parchment lovingly. "It's enough to know Mother and Father didn't die angry. I'll petition the Viscount for rights to reclaim the estate. Maker willing, you'll have your 'house' back within weeks."

At this, Gamlen scoffed, piquing Aria's ire again. "You don't have the coin or standing to even get an audience with the Viscount. You've got to be someone in this city to live in that house again," he spat.

"Then I had better get started," Leandra quipped, disappearing into her bedroom.

"Maker's breath, I can't stand you lot," Gamlen said, striding towards the door.

"Pfff, feeling's mutual," Aria sniped, laughing as he slammed the door in her face.

She turned to her sister, who was positively beaming. "Oh, Aria! I'm so happy we retrieved those things for mother! I can't believe Gamlen stole Mother's entire inheritance! I mean, I can believe it—that's the worst part. I could never turn against my own sister like that."

Aria hugged her sister, saying, "You're a far better person than Gamlen could ever be."

"Well hopefully we'll be out of here soon. You know, when we went to look for that Will, I thought we were doing it for Mother, for what she lost. I didn't realize how much it would mean to me. To know I had grandparents who didn't hate me."

Playful spitefulness sparked in Aria's gold-brown eyes. "They might have been alright with the Fereldan thing, but just imagine if they knew you were an apostate…" She dodged the half-hearted punch Bethany chucked at her, giggling impishly.

"You're such a wretch! I was just hoping it would be different this time. Here in Kirkwall. We're not running away again. We're coming home."

They sat together at the little table that served as their dining table. "Are you unhappy here?" Aria asked, pondering her own answer to that question.

"I wish I could do more for Mother. Carver's death… It's killing her slowly, every day. But maybe if we could reclaim some of what she lost, it will help. I'd do anything to get us back a normal life," Bethany replied, tears misting her eyes.

"Why did Mother and Father work so hard to keep you from the Circle? Would it have been so bad?" Aria queried.

"I guess at first…I was just a little girl. They didn't want to lose me. And once I had learned anything, what would the Templars do to an active apostate, not just a mage-blood child? It changed their lives, your life, Carver's. All because of who I am. Sometimes I wonder if it would have been so bad to be with my own kind, to serve the Chantry as Andraste demands," Bethany lengthily answered, her brows knitting together, her eyes still misty from unshed tears.

Aria took her hand across the table and squeezed gently. "We're going to make this our home, Bethany. I promise you."

"I hope so, Sister. I'm so very tired of running."

Aria smiled, then stretched and yawned.

"Yeah, it's bed time," Bethany softly said, mimicking Aria's movements.

They both traipsed into their shared bedroom and quickly dressed in their sleep attire. Aria blew out the lantern and clambered into her top bunk. She really needed a bath…

The following morning, Aria met Aveline at the Keep's enormous doors. It was far too early for pleasantries, so the walk to the guards' quarters was a silent one.

"There's Jeven's office," she said as they reached the guards' quarters. "Wait while I explain our initiative."

Aria shrugged in response, holding her arm out as though she were ushering the warrior into the Guard-Captain's office. Aria couldn't quite make out all that Aveline said, but the captain's response was loud and clear.

"I don't know how they do it where you're from, guardswoman, but I decide the patrols, not you and your whims! You may have been up for lieutenant in your first year, but I'll have no show-offs in my command! Have I made myself clear? Report to your post, before I have you and your Fereldan accomplice jailed!"

Aveline stormed out of his office, her face about as red as her hair. Her feline-green eyes shot vicious sparks of the hottest fury.

"Well, what a charming fellow," Aria grimly said as her friend reappeared.

"I don't have to like him, but he could at least listen," Aveline spat. "Bandits are dead—that's all that should matter. It's not the first time he's made me wonder like this. Something is very wrong."

"Oh here we go," Aria said rolling her eyes. "I have a feeling I'm getting dragged into something much bigger than this started out. This is probably a bad time to discuss my bill with him, hmm?"

Aveline regarded her with haughty incredulity. "He'll jail you, I don't doubt that. The rest, though…" she said, trailing off, lost in thought for a moment. She turned to Aria as though a momentous realization had occurred to her. "Well, the duty roster will have my next patrol. Sounds like I'll have plenty of time to follow you around. Threaten my friends…not letting that one go, Captain."

Aria followed her as she stalked over to where the duty roster hung on the wall for all the guards to reference. A female guard came up as soon as they reached it. She was built like Aveline, muscular, almost brutish, but slightly shorter and with shorter hair.

"Aveline! I owe you for clearing that ambush last night. Saved me a mess of trouble."

"Brennan! That route was yours?" Aveline inquired. Aria could see the gears turning again.

"It was. Single patrol. I'd have been dead for sure," Brennan answered her, her thanks genuine.

"A lone guard isn't much of a patrol," Aria quipped.

"Shouldn't need to be. That route was clear for weeks," Brennan explained. "First noise out of it was your big fight. The captain reassigned me after what you did, and I passed the satchel to Donnic for his patrol tonight."

Aria was momentarily confused. "The satchel? Guardspeak for what exactly?"

"Pay and order assignments," Brennan clarified for her. "Captain has us run deliveries to the outposts during light duty. It's usually an updated copy of the roster. The satchel for that night was heavy, though. Anyway, thanks again, Aveline. You're a good one!"

Aria and Aveline watched her walk away. None of this information boded too well. It pointed to things that stirred up far more trouble than either of them was really comfortable with. Still, Aveline's upstanding moral fiber would not allow her to let it drop.

"So, the satchel was heavy the same day we discover an ambush."

Aria groaned. "You're sure you want to pursue this? This is your superior we're talking about."

Aveline's lips spread in an uncharacteristically vindictive smile, then faded to acute worry. "If a guard was put at risk, a good captain would want to know why. And if he's not a good captain, I want to know why."

"I'm sure there's a perfectly reasonable lie that explains why your captain arranged this," Aria silkily stated, her mocking undertone not lost on Aveline.

"I'd be willing to hear it, but not while a guard may be walking into a trap. Brennan said Donnic…a good man," Aveline said, turning and examining the roster again, her finger sliding down the parchment as she searched for the name. "Donnic… Donnic. I've got his route. A night walk in Lowtown."

"Oooh, perfect for a first date," Aria sarcastically sniped. "Right, so I expect I'll see you tonight then?"

"I'll be at Gamlen's at sunset."

"Of course you will," Aria all too blithely said. "And the sleep deprivation starts anew," she muttered under her breath as she left the guards' quarters.

She meandered around Hightown alone for most of the morning, checking the merchants' wares and dreaming up a wish list for future purchases she would make. The weaponsmith had a lovely pair of dwarven daggers she'd taken a shine to. The armourer's stock was not at all rogue friendly. She hated being bogged down by pounds upon pounds of heavy armour –she needed to move freely when she fought. There was a merchant advertising "fine goods" named Hubert and she decided to have a look at his wares. She was pleasantly surprised when Varric and Bethany joined her.

"So, how'd it go with the Guard-Captain?" Varric asked as he and her mage sister stepped up to her.

Aria rolled her eyes, then launched into a summary of the goings on in the Keep, her voice lilting and chastising. "Our reward is not being jailed. Aveline's on the warpath. We're going to assist her tonight in busting another set-up and then watch Aveline's career go down in flames when she accuses the Guard-Captain of selling out those in his command to the highest bidder."

"Hmm," Varric said, thoughtfully stroking his chin between his thumb and index finger. "Sounds like a more enjoyable evening than I had planned."

"Is Aveline all right? How could the Guard-Captain jail us for deposing bandits and murderers?" Bethany asked, aghast.

"Because the Guard-Captain is dirtier than a Hanged Man lavatory," Aria replied, looking over a particularly attractive set of armour.

"They have a lavatory in the Hanged Man?" Varric asked, feigning shock. "Well I never…"

Aria chuckled to herself and the fellow running the stand approached her. He seemed none too happy that someone "like her" was looking at his goods. It sparked an intense desire in her to slash his throat, but she quelled the urge.

"Another Fereldan street rat. Are you here to waste my time, or do you actually have coin to spend?" the fellow said, swatting Aria's hand away from the armour.

Aria's tawny gaze shot angry razors at him. "Actually, my coin and I were just leaving," she retorted, turning to walk away.

"Eh," he said, grabbing her arm to stop her, his hoity-toity Orlesian accent grating even more on her nerves. "I'm just having a bad week. There are few Fereldans of means in Kirkwall. Forgive me?"

Aria considered him for a moment, then turned back to him. "Are you an armourer? A weaponsmith?"

The man smiled. "I'm Hubert, and my stock is varied. What all my wares have in common, however, is quality. Only the best for my distinguished patrons. See for yourself."

He opened the covers on some exhibits within his kiosk, allowing the three of them to look over his wares. Aria thanked him and promised to return later after she had finished a couple jobs. He didn't seem impressed, but she didn't care. She wasn't here to make people like her.


	4. Chapter THREE

**Chapter Three**

As the trio strode down the steps leading to Lowtown, Varric spoke up.

"Hawke, have you chased down that lead I gave you about the Warden?"

Aria shrugged. "It's on my to-do list for the day. So is sleep."

Varric chuckled. "Get used to it. Sleep is going to become as rare as a topside nug real quickly here. C'mon. Lirene's shop is just over there. Then you can go take a nap. Maker knows you could use some beauty sleep."

Aria thumped the dwarf's shoulder. "I don't look that bad. Better than you, at any rate."

He laughed again and shook his head, leading the way into the well-known Fereldan sympathizer's door. As they walked in, the scent of stale sweat, gangrene-infested wounds, and desperation assailed their noses. Bethany stifled a gag. Aria walked past the line of people seeking aid and went straight up to the stern-looking woman obviously in charge.

"You again? What do you want?" Lirene said, glaring at Aria.

"Friend of yours?" Varric silkily asked. Aria lightly but sharply kicked his hip. She had been here before out of curiosity on Athenril's behalf. She hadn't made a very good impression, apparently.

"I hear you know where I can find a Fereldan Grey Warden," Aria said, resting her elbows on the table in front of the grey-haired storekeeper, her eyes cautiously inquisitive.

Lirene's eyes flashed with momentary fury and she lifted her chin stubbornly. "Only Fereldan Grey Warden I've heard of is sitting on the throne. We're out of the Blight's path now. Why would you need a Warden?"

One of the refugees stepped up then, having eavesdropped the conversation. "The healer was one of them once, wasn't he? A Warden?"

Aria smiled glibly at Lirene. "Ah, from the mouths of the downtrodden."

Lirene glared at her and threw her arms up in frustrated defeat. "Well he's not now. And busy enough without answering fool questions about it," she spat.

With a heavy exasperated sigh, Aria prepared her reply. "Then I'll only ask very _smart_ questions."

"I do not joke, serah," Lirene snipped, Varric shaking his head with a sardonic smile quirking one side of his mouth. "You see what our people face in Kirkwall," Lirene continued, her eyes and voice taking on a pleading but accusing tone. "They have no jobs, no homes. Most can barely buy bread. This healer, he serves them without thought for coin. He's closed their wounds and delivered their children."

Aria smiled sweetly, her eyes impish. "And yet he needs to hide?"

"Would I stick my neck out for some purveyor of hensbane and leeches?"

"You mean he's a mage?" Aria asked, already knowing the answer. It made sense.

"He's a good man," Lirene tenaciously defended. "I won't lose him to the blighted templars."

"We would never turn someone over to the templars, Mistress. Never," Bethany cut in, producing a small ball of flame between her fingers and quickly extinguishing it before anyone else saw.

Lirene's demeanor changed instantly and Aria sensed a victory coming in their quest for knowledge concerning the Deep Roads. Or, in the very least, the location of someone who knew how to put them on the right path. She'd take the victory, no matter how small.

"He doesn't want to be locked in the Gallows just for using the gifts the Maker gave him," Lirene said, her voice holding warmth and admiration.

"I can hardly blame him," Aria sympathized, turning to look at Bethany briefly.

"I suppose it isn't my secret to keep," Lirene sighed. "Anders has certainly been free enough with his services. Refugees in Darktown know—to find the healer, look for the lit lantern. If you have need enough, Anders will be within."

"Thank you, Mistress," Bethany said as they turned to leave.

They walked outside the store, talking out their next course of action but didn't get very far. A group of thugs waited for them.

"You know, it would be really great to walk somewhere in this town _without_ needing a weapon," Aria sighed to herself before the thugs' leader came to the forefront of the group to speak.

"Hey," he said when he saw he had her attention. "We heard you in there, asking about the healer. We know what happens to mages in this town. And it ain't gonna happen to him."

Bethany stepped forward again and Aria was thankful for her presence. "Look, we're Fereldans just trying to keep out of the templars' sight, same as you!" She held out a fireball in her palm for emphasis, then quickly extinguished it with the sudden closing of her fist.

The man's visage waxed instantly apologetic. "Fereldan? But…you, your clothes…I figured you for a Kirkwaller. Sorry. Maker bless the rule of our King Alistair."

The group dispersed down the street quickly, not wanting to draw any other undue attention to themselves. Aria watched them go, shaking her head.

"All too ready to break out the pitchforks and torches," Varric said as they started their trek to Darktown.

"Hmmph. Just let them try it," Bethany quipped.

Aria turned to her, a brow arched in surprise. "Was that a little spunk I just heard?"

"Come now, sister. You know far better than to think you're the only one in this family blessed with a propensity for fighting and inciting."

Aria only smiled and focused on the steps that led down to Darktown. They were notoriously slippery with all sorts of unmentionable goo. She wasn't keen on landing on her backside in it. No telling what noxious diseases one could pick up should one contact it directly.

They continued through the Darktown alleys, Varric and Bethany discussing plans for a card game later in the evening. Aria refrained from dashing their hopes—Aveline had already reserved their services for the evening. Who was she to be the killjoy?

The healer's crude clinic was easy enough to find. They didn't call it Darktown for shits and giggles. Lit lanterns were like suns down here, and the brightest one was clearly visible. There was a throng of sick people sitting outside.

As the trio entered the clinic, an interesting little scene played out before them. A sick child lay motionless and hardly breathing on the rough wood table that served for examination purposes. A dirty-blond mage in weathered, worn robes hovered over him, his hands moving in beautifully fluent patterns that nearly entranced Aria. Bluish white mist that seemed illuminated from within evanesced from his palms and swirled in fanciful wisps over the boy's body. His dark eyes were transfixed on the boy's chest, deep chocolate brown and full of compassion and focus.

He suddenly pulled away from the boy, who gasped and sat up. The mage stumbled backwards, one of his stewards quickly settling a stool behind him so that he might rest. He looked as though what he was doing had been particularly taxing. And it was amazing. Aria found herself in awe of him.

His eyes landed on them and he whirled, snatching up his staff. His voice took on an ethereally dangerous quality that she was sure wasn't normally there as he spoke to them. It was a dark, malicious undertone, and a glimmer of white light pulsed briefly behind his dark brown eyes.

"I have made this place a sanctum of healing and salvation," he boomed, dark eyes flashing. "Why do you threaten it?"

Aria held up her hands, seeking to placate him. She was further intrigued. "I'm just here to talk," she diplomatically said, not wanting to anger him or give him cause to attack. Pissing off a mage was never a good idea.

"We're interested in getting into the Deep Roads. Rumour has it you were a Warden. Do you know a way?" Varric added, stepping up to stand beside Aria.

The mage relaxed slightly, his staff going to his side as a warrior would sheath their blade. His hand still held it at the ready though. A flick of his wrist, and he'd be battle-ready.

"Did the Wardens send you to bring me back?" he cautiously asked. "I'm not going. Those bastards made me get rid of my cat. Poor Ser Pounce-A-Lot. He hated the Deep Roads."

Aria chuckled lightly. "You had a cat named Ser Pounce-A-Lot? In the Deep Roads?"

The mage smiled broadly at her, his dark hazel eyes going wistful with the memory. "He was a gift. A noble beast. Almost got ripped in half by a genlock once. He swatted the bugger on the nose. Drew blood, too. The blighted wardens said he 'made me too soft'. I had to give him to a friend in Amaranthine," Anders said, his tone growing bitter when he spoke of the Wardens.

Aria got back down to business. "I'm part of an expedition into the Deep Roads. Any information you have could save people's lives," she said, playing to the humanitarian within him.

"I will die a happy man if I never think about the blighted Deep Roads again. You can't imagine what I've come through to get here. I'm not interested… " he said, being cautious again. Then something else sparked in his eyes and she recognized the dawn of a deal in the making. "Although, a favor for a favor. Does that sound like a fair deal? You help me, I'll help you."

"Let's be more specific," Aria chuckled. "I don't do anything involving children or animals."

"I have a Warden map of the depths in this area," Anders continued, a hint of a smile on his lips at the innuendo. "But there's a price. I came to Kirkwall to aid a friend. A mage. A prisoner in the wretched Gallows. The templars learned of my plans to free him. Help me bring him safely past them, and you shall have your maps."

"Oh, that's all?" Aria groaned. "I might just take my chances with the darkspawn."

Anders did not appear to like this answer. "If we fight the templars, it is because they decide that anyone who befriends a mage deserves death without questioning."

Aria considered this for a moment and Bethany chimed in. "As just as his cause is, it scares me. I don't want to give the templars another reason to hunt us."

It was exactly what Aria had been thinking. This task was dangerous not because of the actual fighting with the templars, but the ramifications of engaging them at all. She couldn't let Bethany be in danger. Then it occurred to her that she would just leave Bethany home. She'd have to make it a last minute decision—she knew her sister would not take kindly to being left behind.

"These are my terms," Anders continued, his eyes sizing Aria up head to toe. "If you want my aid with your expedition, meet me in the Chantry tonight. I have sent word to Karl to be there. Maker willing, we will all leave free men."

Varric and Bethany followed Aria out of Darktown. They talked amongst themselves, leaving Aria to her own thoughts. She wasn't quite sure what to think of Anders. She had a reputation for getting the job done, usually at whatever the cost. But this particular favor she was rendering could cost her dearly. And not just her—she feared for what could happen to Mother if Bethany was damned to the Gallows and the templars' caricature of mercy.

It wouldn't have been so bad if she'd been caught in Ferelden and sent to the Circle there. The templars in Ferelden were much more forgiving and lax in their pursuit of the mages. Add to that the fact that the Circle there was a thousand times more liberated. Magic wasn't seen as a plague to be contained in Ferelden, merely a force to be reckoned with and used for the good. If it did go astray, there was justice.

But here in Kirkwall, it was as feared as the Blight and it fed desperation. It was a sort of self-fulfilling prophecy; the worst in the templars brought out the worst in the mages. To be fair, she wasn't quite sure of her own stance on magic. She'd been the daughter of an apostate. Her father was an honest man, a noble man but without the esteem and title. He would have jumped at Anders's plight in a heartbeat and welcomed a fight with the iron-fisted templars.

She murmured her departing salute to Varric when they reached Gamlen's, having decided to catch some shut-eye before she embarked on the myriad adventures heaped upon her for this evening. As she lay on the top bunk of the stacked bed she and Bethany shared in their tiny room (Bethany was afraid of rolling off the top bed), she contemplated the crevices and grain of the beams in the ceiling.

If one of those seams were to crack, the entire structure would be weakened. The wood was old and weathered, having endured many a buffeting from the brutal storms that rolled into Kirkwall from the sea. How long could it last before the seams began to crack? How long after that would the entire house fall? And what could she do to stop it from happening, or at least prolong it once the cracks did begin to show?

She found her thoughts traveling then to the admittedly handsome mage they'd met today. Anders was a good man. His passion for freedom from oppression was a potent elixir for attraction. He'd been the first man she'd been attracted to at all since she came to Kirkwall.

It wasn't that she hadn't found many of the men in this city pleasant to look at. There were some head-turners worthy of her attention. However they lacked something vital. Their vacant stares were a huge turn-off. There was no fire in their eyes, nor was there ambition in their actions. They lacked…what Anders possessed.

Anders's eyes were anything but empty. They roared with life, passion, emotion, purpose. He was consumed by it and it drew her, like a hummingbird to nectar, regardless if that nectar may be laced with a fatal poison. So many people here had resigned themselves to their "fates". Anders was no slave to it. He made his own and fought against any sort of chains the world would put on him.

Aria did not put any sort of stock in fate. Nor did she claim any allegiance to any particular faith. She didn't understand how people could believe in things that simply existed to keep control of others. The Chantry, the Circle, the Order. While they had their benevolent purposes, they essentially had the same function: Indoctrinate and control. They gave you rules to live by. Superstitions to follow unless, _gasp_, one wanted to be punished in the afterlife.

How could anyone even be sure there was even such a thing as an afterlife? It's not like anyone lived to tell it. Why did people fear the Void? Didn't they see the beauty in such finality? Didn't they realize that the point of life was not to prepare for the after, but rather to live in the today? In her mind, the only way to exist after death was to leave a legacy worth remembering for the ages; something she fully intended to do.

She supposed she was an anarchist. She didn't care for routine. She didn't care for order. It just had no appeal. If there wasn't freedom to decide one's own actions, why was life even worth it? No. She would not exist in a world where her fate was decided for her. She was the master of it, and she would deal with the consequences of her decisions because they were exactly that: Hers. No one else's.

Aria hadn't even realized she'd fallen asleep until she found herself being shaken gently into wakefulness by her sister. The house was much darker, except for the lanterns in the next room where Gamlen and Mother sat talking. Gamlen sounded drunk. Mother sounded weary. Outside her tiny, dirty window, Aria could see the sun had nearly set.

"Aria, it's time," Bethany softly said by her ear.

She sat up and cracked her neck, moaning at the release it offered her aching spine. "Urngh. Bethany—You're going to hate me, but I don't want you coming tonight," Aria said as she alighted the bunk.

Bethany sighed. "I was actually hoping you'd ask me that, but I didn't want to sound a coward."

Aria smiled at her sister and hugged her, mussing her short dark hair. "There's a big difference between cowardice and stupidity. You are guilty of neither."

"Thank you, sister," Bethany replied, her eyes misting slightly. "Please be careful."

"Careful is my middle name," Aria said, flashing her trademark sardonic smirk.

"And here I thought it was Reckless," Bethany quipped. "Go. Varric's already here."

Aria slipped on her boots and quickly made for the door. When Mother asked where she was going, Bethany deflected for her. She slipped out the door without saying anything more to anyone, confident in Bethany's skills of deception.

Varric waited on the top step, and surprisingly enough, Aveline stood there too.

"Aveline! What on earth are you doing here? I thought we were going to—"

"Hawke, you have the worst taste in adventures. Helping an apostate? What are you thinking?" she spat, jabbing her index finger in Aria's breastbone and forcing her to take a step back.

Aria was in no mood for lectures. She stepped forward towards the taller woman, her amber eyes flashing . "Being such a person of upstanding moral fiber, I would expect you to be at the forefront of such a cause."

Aveline was stunned by Aria's response. She hadn't expected the normally slick, cajoling rogue to be so venomous and driven.

"Hawke, I—"

"Don't. I already made the deal. It's time to honor it. When we're done, we'll go check up on your precious Donnic. And when we're done with that, I'm sleeping for a week. Move, guardswoman."

Aria trotted crossly down the steps, ignoring the witty remark Varric used to comment on the situation. She just wanted this night over with. She wanted her sister to be safe. Even if it meant she was the one who got clapped in irons.

The walk up to the Chantry was blessedly quiet. The night was warm. The breeze flowing in off the sea mingled with the gardens in Hightown and made the night surprisingly…beautiful. It lifted Aria's uncharacteristically dark mood. By the time they reached their rendezvous point with Anders, she was almost her normal light-hearted, quick-witted self.

Anders seemed shocked when he saw them climb the steps, but he also seemed very nervous. His eyes flitted between the three avengers, always coming back to Aria. Aria noticed that he'd shaved the week's worth of stubble from his face and straightened his dishwater-blond hair. He even bore the light scent of a reasonably expensive cologne she'd once smelled in a Hightown gift shop.

"I saw Karl go inside a few minutes ago. No templars so far," he said, eying Aveline warily. "Who is this?"

"A friend of Hawke's and no friend of yours. I'm here to make sure you don't get her killed," Aveline curtly stated.

"She is here of her own volition, though I must say I'm happy your sister is not present. I do not wish to drag another mage into this mess," Anders replied, shaking off the stark disapproval in Aveline's tone. He turned to Aria. "Are you ready?"

Aria nodded, taking one more look around the Chantry courtyard. It was quiet. Not a soul in sight. It slightly unnerved her, but she shook off the feeling. "I didn't see anyone suspicious out here. Let's get this over with quickly, shall we? We've yet other affairs to conduct tonight."

"All right," Anders said amiably enough. "I'll do the talking. You watch for templars."

They walked into the Chantry, the well-oiled hinges on the huge doors swinging silently open, then closed again. Aria had never been in the Chantry since she'd come to Kirkwall over a year ago. It had a serenity about it that calmed her singing nerves. The incense wafted to them on the gentle draft that swirled through the entire structure. Honeysuckle, embrium, lilac, lavender, and sage. Meant to heal, soothe, and ward off evil spirits.

They followed Anders up a flight of robust stairs and to the right side of the balcony. A man stood next to the pews located there, his head down, his shoulders hunched over. He looked… Lost. Anders went immediately to him, his features radiating anxiety. The man turned and the expression of heartbreak that washed over Anders's face lanced through Aria, who felt his grief as her own.

"Anders, I know you too well. I knew you would never give up." The man's voice was flat, devoid of any sort of emotion.

Dread stole through Aria. She'd spoken to men like this before in Ferelden. It was the worst fate a mage could ever be damned to, or so Father and Bethany had said.

"What's wrong?" Anders pleaded. "Why are you talking like—"

"I was too rebellious," the man, Karl, flatly continued. "Like you. The templars knew I had to be—made an example of."

"No!" Anders whispered desperately, his terror glaringly evident.

"How else will mages ever master themselves? You'll understand, Anders. As soon as the templars teach you to control yourself," Karl monotoned, his eyes lethargically moving to something behind them.

Aria turned and found an entire troupe of templars swarming the steps. She cursed beneath her breath and drew her daggers. Aveline and Varric readied themselves for the impending battle.

"No!" Anders yelled, doubling over and leaning on his staff for support. He righted himself a moment later, his body glowing from within, cracks in his skin appearing and letting the light lance through. His eyes glowed bluish-white and a terrible energy radiated from every pore in his body.

"You'll never take another mage as you took him!" he boomed, Aria recognizing the same ethereal undertone he'd used when they first met.

He rounded on the templars, his staff issuing bolts of vicious energy that collided with the templars and seared their armour clean off. Aria took this time to use his distraction and create a more palatable environment for their victory.

She bolted to the group of archers assembled behind them in a little alcove to the right of the stairs, snagging a miasmic flask from her belt and tossing it into the air. She spun and kicked it, shattering the glass and stunning powder over their heads. They swayed where they stood, their bows falling in their limp arms. Varric launched a hail of arrows over their heads and Aria went to work, slicing their throats as quickly as she could.

The last of the archers came to before she could get to him and she fought him, dodging and parrying with him as he drew his shortsword. She spun in a graceful circle, his blade narrowly missing her abdomen. In the same fluid motion, she beheaded him with the elegant down slice of her on-hand dagger.

Aveline was finishing off a horde of heavily armoured templars, and Anders was launching attack after magical attack at them. Aria raced over, taking advantage of the element of surprise and cutting down two of the four remaining templars while Aveline and Varric finished off the other two.

Once the battle was finished, they returned to Karl where he stood, regarding Anders with terror and awe.

"I—Anders, what did you do? It's like…you brought a piece of the Fade into this world. I had already forgotten what that feels like," he wistfully said as Anders approached him, the glowing from before having ceased.

"What _did_ you do?" Aria asked, her own interest piqued but her defenses on the employ. "Not the Fade part—the angry glowing bit."

"It's like a gateway to the Fade inside you, glowing like a beacon," Karl said in awe.

"I have…some unique circumstances, yes," Anders said, clearly not willing to elaborate and drawing the attention away from him. "But, Karl, what happened? How did they get you?"

"The templars here are far more vigilant than in Ferelden. They found a letter I was writing you…" he trailed off as though trying to remember a distant memory. "You cannot imagine it, Anders. All the color, all the music in the world, gone. I would gladly give up my magic, but this?" His voice cracked, his will visibly broken. "I'll never be whole again."

Aria shook her head. "This is what Bethany fears."

"Please, kill me before I forget again!" Karl pleaded, grasping the collar of Anders's robes. "I don't know how you brought it back, but it's fading."

"Karl, no—" Anders whimpered, taking a step back from his friend, his countenance twisted with grief.

"Maybe we can find a cure," Aria interjected, not fully grasping the gravity of the situation. She did not wish to see anyone else murdered this night for the sake of magic. Even if they asked for it.

"Can you cure a beheading?" Anders bitterly shot at her. "The dreams of Tranquil mages are severed—there is nothing left of them to fix."

"I would rather die a mage than live as a templar puppet," Karl said, his eyes still pleading.

"The Tranquil I've met seem content with their lot," Aria suggested. "Maybe it's not that bad."

"You have no idea," Anders softly said to her as though speaking to a small child. "Your emotions, your dreams, everything—stripped away on someone's whim!" he continued, impassioned. "If I were made Tranquil, I would wish for a friend compassionate enough to kill me. Karl," he said, turning to his friend, his dark eyes soft, tears forming in their corners but not spilling over. "I'm sorry—"

"Now!" Karl gasped. "It's fading…" His eyes clouded over, as they had been when they'd first come upon him. He looked—confused. "Why do you look at me like that?"

Anders's shoulders stooped and he drew the dagger that rested at his waist. "Goodbye," he torturedly murmured, driving the dagger deep into Karl's abdomen. He held the dying mage to him and gently lowered him to the floor. After a moment, he righted himself and turned to his companions.

"We should go before more templars come."

They quickly made their exit, keeping to the shadows as they moved through Hightown and followed the apostate back to his clinic in Darktown. Aveline silently fumed, her green eyes zinging accusatory darts at Aria and spitting malice at Anders. Varric had remained silent most of the night, not finding anything to say that might ease the heavy cloud that settled over them all. He knew when it was best to shut up, thankfully.

By the time they stepped into the clinic, Aria had recovered enough of her former sarcasm and well-oiled sharp wits to be somewhat pleasant company. Aveline left to prepare for the ambush that surely awaited Donnic. Bethany was waiting for them, her face etched with worry.

"So, let me guess. This is the part where you tell me you're an abomination?" Aria ventured once the clinic doors had been closed and the locks thrown in place.

Anders sighed, offering her a half-hearted smile. "You're wrong. But not far wrong. I…this is hard to explain." He dragged his fingers through his hair, then let his hand rest on the back of his neck. "When I was in Amaranthine, I met a spirit of Justice who was trapped outside the Fade. We became friends. And he recognized the injustice that mages in Thedas face every day."

Aria sat at the small work table next to where he stood. She was already extremely weary, and the fact that the night was hardly over weighed heavily on her. "And that's…different than a demon?" she asked, curious.

"Just as demons prey on the deadly sins of mankind, there are good spirits who embody our virtues," he said, sitting across from her, his eyes contemplative. "They are the Maker's first children, and they have all but given up on us."

"What does this have to do with your eyes glowing?" Aria queried, the hint of laughter on her lips.

"To live outside the Fade, he needed a host," Anders answered, offering her a glass of water from the pitcher sitting on the table. Bethany and Varric joined them, taking glasses he offered them and drinking. "I offered to help him… We were going to work together, bringing justice to every child ever ripped away from his mother to be sent to the Circle. But… I guess I had too much anger. Once he was inside me, he…changed."

They were silent for a moment, Aria trying to get a read on Anders's emotions. She didn't like the way he looked so forlorn and abandoned. It did something funny to her heart—it brought a peculiar pain that she didn't exactly dislike.

"This is obviously difficult for you," she said after the moment passed.

"I thought I was helping my friend. He would have—died, I guess. If that even means anything. And he wanted to help me. He knew what mages have suffered."

Bethany rested a hand on his from her perch beside him. "You tried to help a friend. Surely no harm can come of that."

He smiled wistfully at her and gently removed his hand. "I wish I still had your innocence. There was too much hatred in me. Justice thought he would overcome that. But my anger… When I see templars now, things that have always outraged me, but I could never do anything about… He comes out. And he is no longer my friend Justice. He is a force of vengeance. And he has no grasp of mercy."

"Hmm. And the attraction is explained," Aria said softly, her eyes locked on Anders, ignoring the wide-eyed stares from Bethany and Varric.

Anders chuckled lightly, a sound that wasn't at all unpleasant. "Perhaps I should check a looking glass more often. I had not thought to ever find a woman who would look past what I just said."

Anders stood then, and the rest followed suit. They watched as he walked over to a bureau in the corner and opened a drawer. From it, he pulled several rolled scrolls, secured with dull but utilitarian looking string. He handed them to Aria.

"My maps are yours. As am I, if you wish me to join your expedition. I thought I was done with the Grey Wardens, but if you have any need of me… I will be waiting here." He offered Aria his hand, which she took and briskly shook. He let his grasp linger slightly longer than was necessary and it made her heart falter for a couple of beats.

"Get your rest, Anders," she softly said. "I'll be in touch."

"Hopefully soon. Good night, Aria Hawke."


	5. Chapter FOUR

**Chapter Four**

Aria ignored the taunts both Bethany and Varric launched at her as soon as they exited the clinic.

"Coming on to the apostate already? My my, Hawke. You work fast," Varric chuckled as they ascended the steps from Darktown to Lowtown.

"It's poetic," Bethany said. "I've never seen her take a shine to anyone. At least not in Kirkwall."

"Oh really?" Varric asked, his interest piqued. He was a master storyteller, and this sounded like the beginning of a really juicy tale. "Maybe she just hadn't met anyone of enough…substance yet. Or maybe it's the whole abomination thing. Women are just drawn to the whole impossible love idea."

"There was this templar in training back in Lothering—" Bethany started, but was cut off.

"That's enough, you two," Aria barked. "Aveline's just up there. Weapons at the ready. The night is far from over," Aria said, her tone leaving no room for argument.

"Is she always this cross?" Varric asked of Bethany.

"Only when she hasn't slept ten hours in the day," Bethany replied, ignoring the scathing glare Aria threw her way.

Aveline waved to them as they came into view. They jogged up to her and followed her through the alleys. It was a surprisingly quiet night in Lowtown—and that was never a good thing. As they walked, Varric struck up a conversation with Aveline.

"So what do you do, Aveline?" Varric asked as they searched a particularly dark alley. It was empty.

"You know I'm a guard, why are you asking?" Aveline shot back, not too keen on conversing at the moment.

"I mean in your off-duty hours. For fun. You've heard of it, I hope?" Varric glibly pressed, raising his crossbow and staring through the sight for a second.

"These are my off-duty hours," Aveline clipped, her expression puzzled.

Varric shuddered, lowering Bianca and saying, "And the trend of you scaring the piss out of me continues."

"Varric, do you do anything?" Aveline countered, not at all pleased with his assessment of her.

"Am I the next stop in your career evaluations? Joy of joys," Varric replied, non-plussed.

Aveline glared at him as they walked the next alley. "You watch and you talk. Is that it?"

"You are dismissing hallmarks of both the utterly ineffectual and the incredibly dangerous," Varric cryptically replied.

"I don't know what you mean," Aveline said, stopping to look behind a bunch of crates and finding only a couple of large rats. They continued on.

"It means coins flow when I talk and when I shut up. Like if you got paid to guard or unguard," he said, his voice low and mocking.

"That makes no sense," Aveline hotly retorted.

"Good," Varric said and they fell silent.

After a few more minutes of searching, they heard the sounds of battle. Aria raced ahead of them, the quickest of the group. Ahead, a guardsman stood amidst a large band of Coterie assassins. Aria employed her usual miasmic flask entrance to battle, doing as much damage as she could while she used the element of surprise. Aveline, Varric, and Bethany launched themselves into the battle as quickly as they could.

The battle was short, thankfully. Aria's strength was waning quickly. She couldn't take much more of this tonight. Aveline ran over to where Donnic had fallen in his exhaustion. She cradled him to her like a small child, checking him over for wounds. He had only sustained a concussion and a few nicks and bruises, but seemed otherwise unharmed. Aveline helped him to his feet, steadying him as he wobbled for a moment.

"Who… Ave… Aveline?" he groggily asked, his vision clearing. "You're a beautiful sight," he huskily stated, his eyes locked on hers.

"Guardsman?" Aveline asked, playfully reproachful but blushing and looking like a bashful school girl.

"I mean, I was on patrol, and they came out of nowhere. I took a few down but there were too many at once. The captain said this route was supposed to be quiet," Donnic clarified, blush also tingeing his cheeks.

Aria ignored them for the time being, letting Aveline enjoy her lovey-dovey moment. Aveline very much enjoyed playing the saviour. Who was Aria to intervene? Aria located the satchel while they talked, opening it up and reading the contents.

"The seal of the Viscount. Office details, city accounts," Bethany relayed over Aria's shoulder.

"Valuable to a guild of thieves," Aria nonchalantly stated, continuing rifling through the satchel's contents and handing them to Bethany to read.

Aveline and Donnic stumbled over, leaning on each other for support.

"A sacrificial delivery with one of our own," Aveline snarled. "Captain Jeven will answer," she vowed.

Aria stood, handing the satchel to Donnic, who now stood of his own accord. "Selling out his own… Forget Guard-Captain. This man needs to be in government."

Aveline rolled her eyes. "Not now, Hawke. Jeven needs to see how justice works. This goes to the office of the Viscount. This will be known," she venomously stated, her eyes darting to Donnic, then back to the satchel. "The captain likes his thieves so much—let's see if they welcome him in prison."

Aria groaned. "Yes, yes. Due process and whatnot. Are we done here?"

Aveline gave her a sulfurous glare before looking tenderly back at Donnic. "Yes, we're done. I'll let you know when the investigation is complete. You'll want to be there when justice is rendered," she distractedly replied, walking away with Donnic, allowing him to lean on her for support as they ascended the steps.

The fingers of dawn grasped at the cloak of night, peeling it back and revealing the first glow of daybreak on the horizon. Aria and Bethany accompanied Varric to the Hanged Man. Bethany declined Varric's offer of a pint, but Aria was game. Bethany curled up on Varric's bed while the other two talked over their ale.

"So, I've been dying to know," Varric said once they'd sat down with their alcoholic beverages in his room. "What was going through your head when you fought that ogre?"

Aria laughed. "For the first few seconds: 'Maker! What do they feed those things?!' But after that? I saw red, honestly. It killed Carver. I wasn't going to let it live."

At this, Varric also laughed. "I don't know anyone else that's even seen one! You're lucky just to be standing here. Somehow, Hawke, I imagine things won't be dull with you around. Not that I expect the Deep Roads to be boring, mind you. Constant threat of doom does tend to keep you awake."

"A lot of things can keep you awake though. I wouldn't reach for the doom first," Aria said, putting her tankard to her lips and taking a very long, hearty draught.

Varric did the same before replying. "Sure, I could have a cup of tea in the morning, but I hear it's bad for you. I've spent my whole life in Kirkwall. Dangerous enough, most days. But, it doesn't compare to the Deep Roads. So, this will be…let's just call it an 'adventure', I guess," he said.

Aria toasted him, clinking the rim of her tankard against his. "Great! Now we're adventurers!"

Varric chuckled and they were both silent for a moment, Aria contemplating the flames in the hearth. She tore her gaze from them, finishing her tankard before speaking again.

"What about you, Varric? You know my story, for the most part. How does yours read?"

He chuckled, also finishing his pint. "You're in luck. I am always willing to talk about myself to beautiful women," he said, winking at her suggestively. She laughed as he continued. "My family came from Orzammar—noble House Tethras—until my father got caught fixing Provings. He and our whole House got exiled."

Provings were the dwarves' way of settling feuds between clans and entertaining themselves. It was a gladiatorial event in which the best fighters from each respective House settled whatever dispute had been raised. But, most of the time, it was simply fighters kicking the crap out of each other and winning bragging rights until such time as someone else did it to them.

"That's…awful," Aria said, leaning forward in her seat, intrigued by his story.

"No huge loss," Varric said, smiling. "I was born up here. Sunshine suits me just fine."

At the mention of sunshine, Aria looked out the window and groaned. "Speaking of sunshine, it's rising and we've all yet to see our beds." She went over to Bethany, who was sound asleep, and gently shook her.

They said their farewells for the time being and walked home, both dragging their feet and quite weary. They trudged up the steps to Gamlen's, both silent in their exhaustion. Aria swung open the door and groaned upon the sight there.

"Out all night," Gamlen groused as they entered, hiccupping and swaying from his perch beside the small, dirty hearth. "One might be led to believe you're up to no good."

"We're not you, Uncle," Aria sniped, looking at the desk and noticing a few letters piled there addressed to her.

Bethany went straight into the bedroom without casting their slippery uncle a single glance. She hated the man and it was more than well-deserved.

"I'm not your personal post man," Gamlen continued as Aria went through the letters.

They were from Athenril—offers of work that could produce quite a decent profit. She hated dealing with the underground anymore, but work was work and they needed the money if they were going to get out of this filthy hovel. Aria didn't know how much more she could take before she just outright dispatched of the disgustingly snivelly wretch that served as her uncle.

"You get more damned mail than I do, and I actually live here," he burped as she strode past him, leaning back in his chair and glaring at her.

"Shut up," she said, kicking the chair so that it fell backward.

He landed with a satisfying "thud". She hardly paused in doing so and said nothing as she walked into the bed room, smiling wickedly to herself at the litany of putrid insults he hurled her way. She slammed the door in his face and threw herself onto the top bunk.

"Thank you," Bethany murmured sleepily from beneath her.

"For?" Aria asked, yawning.

"Everything. Keeping me from the templars. Kicking that filthy excuse for a human. Working so hard."

"You're my sister. I would do nothing less."

"And I for you."

Aria turned on her side, drawing the thin, scratchy blankets over her shoulders. She winced as her armour shifted. She didn't have the energy to remove it. With a heavy sigh, she looked up at the beams again, scarcely visible in the low light of the dawn.

Soft, impassioned, dark eyes swam before her in a handsome, but tortured visage. A halo of dark gold hair adorned the face. Ambition drove the noble purpose. Anders. He was worth pining for. She knew it was perilous to allow herself to have feelings for such a dangerous man. Well, the man himself wasn't really the danger—his situation was. An active apostate and revolutionary, partial abomination, hunted. Well, how could a woman _not_ want that?

"Aria?" Bethany asked after a few moments had passed.

"Hmm?" Aria sleepily replied.

"Anders—he seems taken with you."

Aria chuckled softly. Her sister always had a knack for knowing what was on her mind. "You think so? We only just met him."

"He's a good man, like Lirene said. But guard your heart. I have this dreadful feeling that you're going to need it."

Aria sighed. "Let's not jump to the nuptials just yet, shall we?"

Bethany laughed quietly. "At any rate, I'm glad you found someone who interests you. Being alone… In this city of unfamiliarity and hostility… I'm just glad you have people to watch your back."

"Yours too," Aria said, yawning.

"It will all work out. You'll see," Bethany sleepily said.

Aria waited a few moments until the deep breathing beneath her yielded a single soft snore. She smiled sadly to herself. "I hope you're right, sister. I really do."


	6. Chapter FIVE

**Chapter Five**

It was late afternoon before Aria stirred. The house was blessedly quiet. She stretched and sat up, stifling the yawn that forced its way up her throat. Her entire body was sore from the night spent in vigorous battles and she was loathe to leave the bed, as uncomfortable as it was.

She groaned and swung her legs over the side, peering down to see if Bethany was still there. She wasn't. Aria hopped down, moving her shoulders in slow, small circles to alleviate some of the tightness in them. She did the same with her ankles, then proceeded to emerge from the bed room.

Her fortune seemed even greater as she entered the house's main room and found it deserted. She strode over to the writing desk and read the letters from Athenril. She'd already completed one of the jobs a couple of days ago.

One of the incomplete tasks was supposed to happen later this week, late at night of course. She groaned again. Why did nothing of import ever happen during daylight hours like with normal people? She was supposed to meet a contact, Anso, in Lowtown at nightfall four days from today by the merchants' square in the Lowtown Bazaar.

She grabbed the loaf of bread that sat on the small kitchen table and cut off a hunk, chewing it thoughtfully as she peered out the tiny, dirty window overlooking the Old Slums' square. People meandered about, talking to each other and making trades from weapons and crafts to food and other necessities.

What would she do in the meantime? She didn't really have any plans for today or this evening, thankfully. She figured she'd clean and service her armour and trusty daggers. Maybe do some shopping at the market and put some better food in this house. Gamlen had resigned himself to eating half-rotten food and stale bread. Then again, he relied upon the drink to sustain him above anything else. Mother would require more—and she more than deserved it.

She went into the small wash room and pumped water into the three large buckets there. Then she went to the small hearth and hung them over the coals to warm. She desperately needed to wash. Thankfully, Bethany's skills with herbs and flowers gave her the luxury of heavenly scented soaps, creams, and oils for her skin and hair. Aria had always been particular about the way she smelled. She couldn't stand her own body odor—or anyone else's for that matter.

As the water warmed over the fire, she set to work on her armour, scrubbing the blood from it first so that she could polish it and locate any dings or dents. She diligently worked on that for nearly an hour, satisfied with the shine it had when she had finished. She checked the water and found it still not warm enough for her liking. To occupy her time until the water was ready, she set to work honing the edges of her daggers, whetting the blades and removing the nicks they'd sustained.

Once done with that, the water was plenty warm, if not a little on the scalding side. She used the tongs next to the hearth to remove the buckets and carried them back into the wash room, emptying them into the small, but deep vat that served as a washtub. She then went into the bedroom and gathered her favorite hair wash, hair cream, body soap, and moisturizing oils that Bethany had crafted specifically for her.

Bethany had used sprigs of fresh lavender, vanilla clippings, heavy cream, lard, and ground sage to create the toiletries. It was the most relaxing scent and an instant mood lifter. Not to mention, most of the Kirkwall and Fereldan women she passed would remark on the softness and glowing quality of her alabaster skin. Aria was slightly vain, but not so much that it impeded her effectiveness.

Aria gingerly lowered herself into the steaming water after stripping out of her dirty undergarments, having laid out freshly washed clothes over the stool next to the tub. She set to scrubbing her hair and body, leaving the special cream to soak into her hair and scalp afterwards. She lingered in the small tub for a time, allowing the sweet, clean aroma to permeate her pores and sink into her very spirit.

The hot water did wonders for her aching muscles, seeping straight through to the aches and gently warming them away. She actually dozed off for several minutes in the water, enjoying this alone time. It was good to just have a bit of silence, to be alone with herself. Her thoughts eagerly wandered back to Anders. She wondered if he'd thought of her at all. If those thoughts were pleasant, worried, angry. Bethany had seemed sure he was at least interested in her. Aria had been alone for so long…

She'd never really loved a man—at least, not in the world-shattering, end all, be all way. Sure, she'd had a few adolescent trysts and even laid with a couple of them back in Lothering. The most prominent one, and the one she experienced the deepest feelings for had even been in training to be a templar. He'd had the loveliest grey eyes she'd ever seen, stormy seas over a brilliant light. She wondered, sadly, if he'd made it out of the south lands in time to avoid the Blight. He'd left before her family had, gifting her a beautiful amulet before he departed. It was an amethyst in the shape of a dragon. She'd lost it when they fled. Her father and Bethany had been none too pleased that Aria was being courted by a would-be templar, but they'd said little. He was a good man. Ser Devon was his name.

She smiled wistfully at the memory. She had spent many an afternoon with him, hiding from the Revered Mother in town. They'd gone to the alfalfa and wheat fields south of Lothering near the Korcari Wilds and watched the sun set. He had always loved her hair; he'd said it reminded him of spun moonbeams, silver, and stardust. He'd spend hours just running his fingers through it while they talked. His touch relaxed her, sent her to a blissful, worry-less state she hadn't been able to achieve on her own. With father and Bethany being apostate mages outside the circle, she had much to fear.

Often they didn't return to town until well after the moon and stars had risen. He said he loved how she looked in the moonlight. He didn't realize how well it had suited him, though; he had light, ashen blond hair that he kept short and tawny, flawless skin. He kept his goatee immaculately trimmed. The moonlight made him look more like a benevolent god than a man. Although those things made him visually appealing, it was always his eyes that drew her.

Silvery grey. Fathomless. Full of compassion, mirth, and goodness. They fringed at the corners in the most endearing fashion, delicate tridents that displayed the happiness within. He stood a head taller than her and always made her feel like the most important person in the world. She felt as though she fit just right under his strong arm, nestled close to his side.

She didn't know if she loved him, because before that revelation could occur, he was ordered to leave Lothering with a bunch of the younger recruits. They'd gone to Denerim to serve the Chantry there and fortify Ferelden's capitol city as it braced for the onslaught of the coming Blight. She would never forget the despaired look he gave her as he walked away from the village.

She felt quite similar when she looked into Anders's eyes. They had the same warmth, the same goodness within. But they also held a haunted light. She wanted to drive that part away and see if he was not too broken to repair.

Aria had always enjoyed fixing things. While she had a knack for quick wit and a sharp tongue, her first instinct was always to make people laugh. To make them forget their troubles and just enjoy the gift of life for a while. Too many people didn't have the chance to enjoy the life they'd been given. Poverty was a blessing; it absolved one of the responsibilities those of higher stature held. Love abounded. Joy could be found in the smallest of things. Coin could not buy that.

Here in Kirkwall, she realized just how good she had really had it in Lothering. The long days she spent with father, aiding the sick and making people merry. She used to sing and dance a lot; the village often gathered during times of the planting and harvest, and it was often requested of her that she sing for them. Her father used to call her his little Birdie, and it had been her childhood nickname. He'd said her voice was clear and pretty as any Chantry bell.

A knock at the washroom door snapped her from her reverie. Bethany's dark head poked in and she smiled sweetly at her sister.

"I could smell you all the way outside. How are you feeling?" she timidly asked, stepping in and closing the door.

"Much better now, thank you," Aria said, wiping at the tears that she hadn't realized fell down her cheeks.

"Don't be sad," Bethany compassionately said, striding quickly over to the tub, a large towel draped over her arm. She laid it across the stool and sat on top of it, her dark eyes kind.

"I'm not—I'm actually quite happy. Just—remembering the good times in Lothering."

Bethany smiled. "They were good. You're…thinking about Ser Devon, aren't you?"

Aria couldn't help the bitter taste that rose in her mouth. "I hope he lived. And I hope he's found someone to make him happy."

"I like to think he did," Bethany said, folding her hands in her lap. Aria noticed she held something folded in cloth. "For a templar, he was a good man. He was always gracious about us."

"They're not all bad. Just like not all mages are bad," Aria replied. "What have you there?"

"Something I picked up today at the market for you. I hope you don't mind. I just thought that it would look lovely on you," Bethany said, handing the item to her.

Aria carefully unwrapped it after flicking the water from her hands. It was a pair of pewter hair combs with small amethysts and jet gems set in swirling patterns. They were quite lovely.

"I imagined you would bathe when you woke, and I wanted to set them in your hair when you were ready," Bethany said, her dark eyes shining.

Aria couldn't help the tears that sprang anew. "They're…perfect. Thank you. I would like that very much."

"I am so glad! Hurry up in here so I can do your hair," she said, standing. "Mother will be home soon and I know she'd just love to see them."

Aria waited until Bethany closed the door behind her before dipping beneath the water and rinsing the cream from her hair. She quickly stepped out of the tub and dried herself, then smoothed the same scented oil over her skin. She swiftly donned the clean undergarments, slip, and long black dress she'd laid out and exited the washroom to find Bethany sitting at the little table next to the hearth, brush, combs, and hair pins at the ready.

She seated herself on the floor at Bethany's feet and allowed her sister to comb through her long, damp tresses.

"You know what I miss?" Bethany said after a few minutes of companionable silence, taking the snarls from her sister's long hair with a beautiful whale ivory bone their mother always used.

"Hmm?" Aria asked, her eyes closed in blissful relaxation.

"Your voice. You never sing anymore."

Aria laughed, unable to keep the bitterness from her tone. "What is there to sing about?"

"Plenty! Haven't you any inspiration anymore?" Bethany exclaimed, hurt.

"These times have been dark. I fear any song I sing will only add to the melancholy," Aria softly replied, wincing as Bethany twisted her hair a little too tightly. She inserted a couple of pins, then twisted a few more of the strands together, and secured them with one of the combs.

"Melancholy or not, I wager it would make you feel better in the end. You have such a pretty voice."

They were silent again, and Bethany finished the other side of Aria's hair. Bethany handed her the little ornate pewter looking glass to check her hair. Aria was a little surprised by the image in the mirror. Her sister was so talented. She could make the ugliest of hags look like a divine goddess.

"Oh, Bethany…" she murmured. "You do such beautiful work."

"Aria, you are so gifted. Don't squander them because we've had a bad turn."

Just then, Mother entered the house. She took one look at her daughters and her hand flew to her mouth. She smiled broadly and rushed over to them, enveloping them both in her arms.

"Oh! I was so worried about you!" she gushed once she released them. "I feared something bad had happened. You two were so sound asleep all day!" She looked at Aria and cupped her cheek. "Aria—you look so lovely today."

"Thank you, Mother. I was going to go to market and pick up some fresh food. Gamlen doesn't know the meaning of sustenance," Aria replied, withdrawing slightly. She didn't much care to be the center of attention.

"Do go! Get out! Enjoy the day! I fear this past year has been too heavy a burden on your young shoulders. Make merry! I will see you later this evening," the Hawke matriarch said, ushering Aria to the door after handing her the satchel she always carried.

Aria laughed, despite being pushed out of the house. "All right. You two stay out of trouble while I am away."

She walked out of the house after slipping into her favorite pair of shoes, simple flats made of doeskin that had stretched and formed to her feet perfectly. She wandered through the markets as the sun set, buying fresh fruit, vegetables, a few cuts of salted meat, and some more bread. She even bought a bottle of decent mulberry wine. She returned home to drop the items off, only to find the house empty once more.


	7. Chapter SIX

**Chapter Six**

He had read the same passage at least a dozen times by now, but he wasn't seeing the words. Instead, he was replaying last night's events in his head. Karl's death angered him and left him full of the perpetually growing hatred and sorrow. The templars had committed yet another atrocity. Would it ever end?

Anders sighed and turned the page, skimming over the text with his fingers. It was a Tevinter account, the story of how a couple of magisters devised some healing techniques for wounds inflicted by a particularly nasty poison that rotted the flesh when it encountered it. Most rudimentary healing spells and salves wouldn't work on it. He sighed, finding his thoughts turning to the woman who'd made it even possible to save Karl.

He'd seen her fight through Justice's eyes. She was a dynamic whirlwind, full of fire and life. Her amber eyes crackled with mischief and mirth, but there was bitterness as well. She'd been slightly cross at first, then afterwards, he'd felt she was much a kindred spirit. Her sister was an apostate, and from what he'd gathered, so was her father. She knew his fight all too well, having magical blood in her own veins.

Add to all of that the fact that she was absolutely lovely. Graceful for one of her stature—she was tall for a woman. Not too tall, but not in any way petite. She was quick-witted and had the same sense of humor he used to have—before he'd willingly become an abomination of sorts. He found himself replaying their conversation over and over, especially the part where she expressed interest in him.

At least, that's what he thought anyway. He could be wrong, but it seemed like she'd called him handsome, in a roundabout way. It had been nearly two years since he'd been interested in a woman. That in itself was sad—he used to be quite adept at romance. Until Justice came, at least.

He smiled as he remembered many a night spent engaging in the lowest, most beautiful forms of passionate debauchery. So many willing beauties had been at his side. Amaranthine had been the end to that. And now—this Aria Hawke.

She was not the usual beauty. Hers went deeper. She had the brightest, stardust hair that seemed to glow in the lowest of lights. He could only guess at its length, as she wore it piled and twisted tightly and intricately on her head. Practical for her line of work. She was lithe of form and surprisingly pale. Most of the Fereldan refugee women had skin darkened by long hours spent working in the sun. She was as radiant ivory as any of the Hightown noblewomen, though he was certain she spent her fair share of days in the sun the same as any of the other peasant women.

He heard the soft thud of approaching footfalls and looked up, surprised to see her standing there. It was if his thoughts had summoned her to him. This…warrior goddess. But she was not garbed as such this evening. Tonight she was every bit the fair, enchanting maiden he had dared dream her to be, and she stole his breath.

Not wanting to sit idly in an empty house, she returned to the street and found herself drawn to Darktown. Aria garnered many curious stares as she worked her way through the gloom, many people glaring at her. Their plight weighed heavily on her. These were her people; forced into a city that hated them, exiled to live among the filth that Kirkwall heaped upon them.

Inevitably, she found herself walking up the steps to Anders's clinic. The lantern was lit. Smiling to herself and swallowing the lump of nerves that rose in her throat, she entered, finding him stooped over his little desk reading something.

He turned when he heard her enter and his warm, dark caramel colored eyes brightened when he took her in.

"Aria? I hardly recognize you," he said, standing and almost unsettling his chair.

"You mean without the gore and stench of battle clinging to me?" she quipped, her tawny eyes sparkling.

"Well, there is that. You're beautiful even then," Anders replied. "Is there anything you need?"

"Actually, no. I was just stopping in to visit for a bit. See how you were faring after…last night. And I brought this," she said, producing the wine from her satchel.

He smiled appreciatively. "I'll fetch some goblets. Are you hungry?"

It dawned on her that she had only eaten a small bit of bread today. With that realization, her stomach rumbled. She laughed and placed a hand over her belly. "Famished, to be honest."

He softly chuckled and moved to the table, pulling out a chair. He indicated for her to sit, and she readily complied. He set a plate of various fruits, cheese, and some wafers in front of her. She waited to eat until he made his own plate and sat across from her. She poured wine into the two goblets he'd set on the table and they commenced eating.

"I suppose I should thank you for what you did last night. You had no reason to stick your neck out for me like that, and given your own precarious situation—"

"No need to thank me, Anders. You did your part in helping me, too," Aria gently cut him off, popping a grape into her mouth. It was surprisingly delicious and she savored the taste.

Anders chewed his own food thoughtfully, his chin resting on his palm as he studied her for a moment. She cocked her head to the side, curious as to what it was he was thinking.

"What?" she finally asked.

"You seem…different somehow. A lot—nicer."

Aria laughed, genuine mirth bubbling forth from her throat as she threw her head back. "You caught me at a bad time. Last night was a very long one and I was in a right foul mood."

"You mean you didn't go home after that mess in the Chantry?"

"Ha! That was only the beginning," she said, stuffing her mouth full of a cheese and fruit-laden wafer. She chewed it slowly, enjoying how he watched her.

"Do elaborate," he said once she'd finished chewing.

"My friend Aveline required my help. It too, was messy business."

"The dour guard who accompanied us? How so?" he asked, taking a long drink from his goblet. He smiled, impressed with the quality.

"She was chasing a lead on corruption within the guard. There was an ambush and a fellow guardsman almost lost his life. We got there in time, luckily. Now I'm just waiting for her to get back to me about the results of the ensuing investigation," Aria said, loading another wafer with fruit and cheese.

"Corruption in the guard—imagine that," Anders bitterly laughed.

"Mmm. The Guard-Captain, no less."

"Absolute power corrupts absolutely," he said, filling his own mouth.

They ate in comfortable quiet after that, just watching each other. He smiled a lot, an expression that suited him much better than his haunted somberness. She couldn't help the grin that graced her own lips. She rather liked the way his eyes warmed when they rested on her. It sent a thrill through her pulse that she hadn't felt in a long time.

He couldn't get enough of watching her. He loved the way she chewed, not the pristine noblewoman, but not a pig either. She seemed to approach everything with a gusto and vitality that emanated from her like a beacon to a ship in a storm at sea. She just radiated life—he'd never seen someone that stirred him like this.

Maker, but she was lovely tonight. Her hair was twisted and folded ornately, secured on both sides of her head with the most beautiful amethyst and jet-studded combs. Her ocher eyes flashed with life and joy. Her cheeks flushed the loveliest of dusty pinks. Her radiant skin bore the sweetest aroma he'd ever breathed. The simple black dress she wore fit perfectly on her lithe frame, clinging to her trim, warrior figure in all the right, feminine places.

He cleared the table and she poured them some more wine before they resumed conversation.

"So you're a Fereldan too?" he asked, resting his chin in his hand again, his head politely inclined towards her.

"Yes. From Lothering," she answered, smoothing her skirt and swiping away the crumbs that had landed there.

"Lothering? I'm so sorry. You were right at the heart of it," he said, referring to the beginning of the Blight.

"We wouldn't have made it, if not for the Witch of the Wilds herself," Aria relayed, enjoying the spark of curiosity that lit his dark eyes.

"_The_ Witch of the Wilds? Flemeth?" he asked incredulously.

"The one and only. She turned into a dragon and charred the horde, keeping us safe. Then she bore us to the coast so we could sail to Kirkwall."

"That was awfully generous of her," Anders suspiciously stated.

"Mmm, it wasn't without a deal being struck," Aria replied, acknowledging his suspicion.

"Of course. What were the bargain's terms?"

"I haven't yet fulfilled them, actually. I haven't had the means. I will tell you when the time comes," Aria hedged, heeding the warning her conscious laid out to her.

"I will help you, whatever the task. You need only ask," he said, reaching for her hand. He was pleased when she did not withdraw, but rather grasped his in kind. "But answer me this: Why on earth did you come to Kirkwall? Surely Amaranthine or the coastlands would have been sufficient. Especially for an apostate."

Her smile was bitter and he feared he'd touched a nerve. He didn't like how she seemed pained by the question.

"Ah, that. Well, my mother's family used to be nobility in Kirkwall," Aria answered, averting her eyes.

"Used to be? Ah, the mage blood. It ruined them?" he surmised.

She looked up to meet his gaze, for a second forgetting what she was going to say. His eyes had the same effect on her that Ser Devon's used to. She wasn't quite sure how to handle it.

"Not exactly, though I suppose that is part of it," she slowly stated after a few moments. "My family has magic on both sides. My Mother—was engaged to a nobleman. But she fell in love with a Fereldan apostate. My Father. She fled to Ferelden with him and left her noble birthright behind."

"Your grandparents—are they still alive?"

"No. They died many years ago. However, my Grandfather left it all to my Mother. This fact outraged my slippery, useless Uncle Gamlen. He squandered the fortune, gambling it all away."

"Bastard," Anders cursed. "And yet you live with him now? In Lowtown?"

"Unfortunately," Aria said, taking another sip of her wine as Anders released her hand.

He sipped from his goblet, studying her for a moment. She took the time to also study him. He seemed much more relaxed. Much more open. The caginess he'd exhibited last night was gone. He was far more still, far more…tractable.

"I am sorry. Fate has been most unkind to you," he said at last, his now dark eyes compassionate.

"Mmm," she said, swallowing the wine. "Don't be. I'll get it back, and my family's reputation will once again be in good standing. I don't believe in fate, in any case. I believe in action."

He sat back, his expression intrigued. "You don't believe in fate?"

"No, I don't," she firmly stated, her amber eyes holding his, the fires within them roaring to life. "Fate is a coward's excuse for succumbing to defeat. I make my own path, and it is determined only by my actions."

He broadly smiled, the corners of his eyes wrinkling in the most intriguing fashion. She returned the gesture, finishing her wine.

"That—is an interesting philosophy. But what about the Maker's hand? Do you not believe he has a plan for us all?"

"Do you?" she countered, her eyes sparkling flirtatiously.

"I feel that is a baited question," he laughingly hedged.

"Then let it suffice to say that I have no use for any institution that seeks to govern every little intricacy of everyday life. You are a champion of freedom. Do you not believe that everyone is free to decide their own fate then? Good or ill? Maker be damned?"

"Were I of the Chantry, I would accuse you of blasphemy," he said, his tone mockingly serious.

"Still you hedge. And then I could point out a thousand ways you yourself, Revered Mother, are a hypocrite," she giggled.

Anders threw his head back and laughed, leaning back in his chair. "Oh, but you are refreshing to speak to!"

"I'm glad I amuse you," Aria replied, also sitting back in her chair, a benevolent smile on her lips.

"You more than amuse me," he huskily stated, his eyes darkening. It sent her pulse skittering for a few seconds.

"I'm glad of that, too," she softly said.

He chuckled, a low rumbling from deep in his throat. "I find I much enjoy you. It's nice to speak with someone who has their own mind about things. Who isn't easily bullied or afraid to think outside the popular schools of thought."

"Normally, people who bully me end up pushing daisies," she teased, folding her arms on the table in front of her.

"I've borne witness to that," he said, also resting his arms on the table again.

She sighed. "I really do hate to say it, but I fear I must be headed back to Lowtown. There are a few—things I have to do," she said, slowly getting to her feet.

His pulse raced. He wasn't at all ready for her to go yet. He felt he could talk to her all night and not broach the same subject twice.

"Must you?" he said, kicking himself mentally for the desperation that crept into his tone.

"Well, perhaps you could accompany me. I'm going to go to the Hanged Man and have a drink and a chat with my business partner, Varric."

He sighed. He didn't want to leave the clinic for fear of missing someone in need. But tonight, he wanted to put his own needs first for a change. Didn't he deserve it?

"Varric? The rather quiet dwarf?"

Aria burst out laughing, the sound ringing through the small room like the song of birds in a spring meadow and sending his pulse aflutter again. "You don't know Varric well yet. Eventually, you'll be shouting at him to shut up."

"Well, now I have to come," he said. "But why the Hanged Man?"

She shrugged, picking her satchel up from the floor. "It's where he lives. He has a room there."

"I'll gladly accompany you. Just allow me to tidy up a few things before we go."

"Certainly," she allowed.


	8. Chapter SEVEN

**Chapter Seven**

The following few days passed in a happy blur. Aria spent most of her daytime hours in the clinic with Bethany and Anders, aiding the sick. She spent her evenings in the Hanged Man with Varric, Anders, Bethany, and Aveline, sharing battle stories and old tales from Ferelden.

It was good to be finally finding peace and having a group of friends with which she could pass her time. It was the happiest she'd been since before Lothering had been destroyed. Anders was a breath of fresh air to her, lifting her spirit and taking away the edge of the bitterness with which she'd begun to become all too well acquainted.

She was at the clinic with Anders, having ushered out the day's last patient; a young girl with a wicked case of boils. She sat with Anders at his dining table, sharing yet another bottle of wine and talking easily. The past few days, they'd become intensely close.

He was a passionate and compassionate person. He was driven, focused, and kind. She found herself laughing easily with him and thoroughly enjoyed working alongside him. Her Mother and Bethany seemed to be infected with the same joy, the smiles on their faces and light in their eyes reminding her of how it used to be in Lothering, before the world came crashing down around their ears.

Anders invited her to walk with him just outside the city limits at dusk. They sat on a ledge overlooking the Waking Sea and watching the darkness overtake the city. The warm breeze blew in and Aria enjoyed how it felt against her skin, tingly and refreshing.

"I had a friend like you once," Anders said, his tone soft and contemplative. "Got in all kinds of trouble. Dragged me along. Didn't think I'd be doing that again."

Aria laughed and leaned back against the boulder in front of which she sat, folding her arms behind her head as she watched a few gulls lazily circle the harbour.

"After that whole mess with Karl, I got a bit weighty. Sorry for putting that on you," he apologized, tenderly tucking a flyway of her silvery hair behind her ear and letting the back of his hand linger momentarily on her cheek.

"You can tell me anything," Aria softly replied, smiling at him. "Dark secrets, potion recipes…dirty jokes."

He laughed this time and shook his head. "Anything? Be careful what you offer. I just…I hope I didn't seem too selfish when I told you about Justice. I didn't know what would happen. I figured a willing host, a friend…it had to be better than playing the demon and haunting some corpse."

"Well, he can't complain about his looks, anyway," Aria quipped, playfully poking him in the side.

"No," he said, his demeanor changing completely. "Look, I know—these last few days have been—some of the best in my life. But, don't go there, Aria. That's not going to end well. I don't…want to hurt you." He looked out over the harbour, his dark eyes growing cold.

She sat up, uncomfortable with the sudden turn of the conversation. Staying true to form, she tried to take some weight out of the exchange.

"Hurt me. I might like it," she playfully said.

He looked at her, and gently took her hand, his eyes pleading. "No. You saw what I did in the Chantry. That's who I am."

She watched him stand and he paced back in forth in front of her for a few moments, reminding her of a caged beast. The restlessness and anxiety she'd first seen in him returned tenfold. It was starting to destroy this little bit of happiness she had so desperately wished for in the past few days.

"A year ago, maybe we could have had something. But I'm not that man anymore. I'll break your heart," he said, his voice cracking with the weight of his emotion. "And that…might kill me as surely as the templars."

Aria stood as well, grabbing his arm to cease his pacing. "Anders—"

"Don't think me ungrateful for all you've done for me already. I don't wish to convey that at all," he said, cupping her face with one hand.

"You can't break my heart any worse than it already is," she softly stated, searching his dark, haunted eyes for the warmth she knew they could possess.

He studied her for a moment, floundering for something to say to that. He hadn't realized—but who could have done that to her? Who could have been so cruel to such a wonderful gem?

"It is already broken? By whom?"

"Not necessarily by whom as much as by what," she said, looking back out over the harbour in the direction of Ferelden.

"You've lost much," he softly acknowledged.

"I've never—well, I might have been in love once. Oddly enough, he was a templar in training."

Anders shook his head. She didn't believe in fate, but he did. And it was definitely cruel to her, twisted and conniving. "He must have been a very good man."

"I'm surprised to hear you say that," she murmured, turning away from the sea and looking down the path that led back to Kirkwall.

"All templars are not evil," he cautiously said. "King Alistair was a templar in training. I met him once. He was more sympathetic to my cause than most Circle mages are."

"It does my heart good to hear you say that," Aria said, smacking the dust off her trousers. "I must be going. I have a long night ahead of me tonight."

He followed her down the trail, looping his arm through hers. "I'm coming with you."

She smiled at him but said nothing more until they reached Lowtown. They stood outside her door in the twilight, the neighbourhood peacefully silent. He smoothed an errant strand of hair away from her face again and tilted her chin up so he could look down into her tawny eyes.

"I have to suit up. It could get bloody," she softly said, her eyes searching his.

"Where shall I meet you?" he queried, still holding her face.

"The Hanged Man. Bethany and Varric will be there as well."

Before she could form another thought, his lips were on hers, his arms going around her waist and pulling her tightly to him. She moaned against his mouth, snaring his neck in her embrace. Warmth surged through her. It had been a long time since she'd felt this and she clung to him, starving.

Her eagerness incited his desire and he slipped his tongue over her bottom lip, delighted when hers responded in kind. She tasted divine—sweet, heady, and enthralling. He crushed her to him, never wanting this moment to end.

Aria buried her fingers in his hair, seeking an anchor in the tempest he'd just started. Her pulse hammered wildly in her ears. His tongue was rough and savory, his touch feral as he pulled her more tightly against him.

His conscience screamed at him. Justice snarled in the back of his mind at this distraction from their cause. He couldn't do this—he knew how it would end. Justice would never grant him the peace enough to pursue her as she deserved. It took all the strength he had to tear his mouth from hers.

She whimpered softly at his departure, her eyes seeking his, pain and questioning in their tawny depths.

"Maker help me," he whispered, cupping her face tenderly in his hands. "Aria—I'm so sorry. I didn't mean—"

The pain that crashed through her at his words stole her breath and stopped her heart. She abruptly removed herself from his embrace, her amber eyes hardening as she stared pointedly at the ground. He tried to lift her chin but she stubbornly jerked her head away, like a spirited horse throwing off the bridle.

"Just—be at the Hanged Man in half an hour," she whispered, her voice steely. She turned from him and stalked inside, quietly closing the door.

He nodded mutely and walked slowly down the steps, his hand over his wildly pounding heart. If he hurt her, it would be his undoing. She deserved so much better, and he could not give it. Sweet Andraste, he wanted to. But the road to the Void was paved with good intentions, and he wasn't going to allow her to be hurt.


	9. Chapter EIGHT

**Chapter Eight**

The group convened at the Hanged Man, Aria the last to show up. Her heart hurt. That's all she could really think of. It felt as though someone had driven a dull knife through her sternum and twisted. The past few days had been so beautiful—she wondered now if she'd only dreamt them. And if she would ever truly feel whole again.

Bethany's dark eyes clouded with concern as her sister slowly trudged up the cobblestone path from Gamlen's hovel to the well-known bar. Varric elbowed the apostate lightly in the side and whispered.

"What happened?"

Bethany only shook her head, her worry evident in the slight creases upon her smooth brow. The glow that had been in Aria's countenance but a few hours ago had gone, replaced by heartrending blankness that was even worse than the bitterness her sister had harboured since their arrival in Kirkwall.

"Are we ready?" Aria asked as she reached them, her voice full of forced cheer.

"Lead the way," Varric said, his keen eye for detail missing nothing. Anders stood apart from them, his own eyes just as haunted as Aria's.

Night had fallen. In the dark, the streets took on a sinister appearance, the shadows of the buildings long and undulating with an evil life of their own in the feeble light offered by the few lit street lanterns. In Lowtown, as soon as the sun was set, the alleyways seemed to come alive with the dregs of Kirkwall's citizenry. It was dangerous, especially if one was known for having coin on them.

They walked up the stairs to the marketplace, which was empty of its usual hustle and bustle. The merchants had left their stands, most of their items either having gone with them or locked away where none could rob them.

True to form, a band of highwaymen bearing the Sharps guild insignias on their shoulders ambushed them. Aria was in a fighting mood. She needed to inflict the hurt she felt on those who tried to assail her. With much more gusto than was probably necessary, she launched herself into the fight.

She charged one of the archers, slicing his throat open before he had the chance to even nock an arrow. In a devastating whirlwind of blades, she spun and danced through their defensive line, unleashing destruction and dealing swift, vicious death.

As she yanked her blade from the last Sharpsman's chest, Varric, Bethany, and Anders caught up with her.

"Maker's breath, Hawke. You do get results," Varric said in astonishment, surveying the carnage with a mix of horror and awe.

"I'm not in the mood for toying with these cretins this evening," she quietly replied, wiping the dagger clean of highwayman blood and sheathing it on her back.

She lifted her gaze, searching for the contact in Athenril's letter and saw a dwarf standing next to one of the merchant's stands. His back was to them and he was reading a scroll. She strode over to him and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Are you Anso?"

The dwarf spun wildly, throwing his hands up as if to ward off a blow. "Ah!" he screamed. "Sweet mother of partha! You can't just run up on someone like that!

Aria glared at him, unimpressed.

"Are you…the human Athenril told me about? The one looking for work?" he asked, his clear grey eyes wide and too big for his face.

"Did you think I was going to attack you?" Aria asked, sheathing the other blade she held in her hand. She had to admit—she had rather enjoyed the terror in his eyes.

"Oh! No, no!" he quickly denied, "Or I hope not, anyhow! My apologies, human. I haven't been on the surface very long. I keep thinking I'll fall up into that sky any minute."

Varric chuckled at this, saying, "Bartrand used to be like that. Got jumpy every time he stepped outside."

"What a bizarre thing to be scared of," Bethany mused.

"But I digress!" the jumpy little dark-haired dwarf continued, his eyes darting from each of them to the next. "I need some help," he said, sounding frightened and whiny. "Rather badly, in fact. Some product of mine has been…misplaced."

Aria crossed her arms over her chest. She couldn't tell if his nervousness was an act or a ploy. He seemed a little too slick as he continued when she didn't respond.

"The men who were supposed to deliver it decided not to. If you retrieve my property, I could reward you handsomely?" His simpering, nasally voice trailed off, as if he wasn't too sure about whether or not he could reward them.

"Just what did these men steal?" Aria curtly asked.

His anxiety went up a notch. "Did I say steal? I don't know if I would go that far. They seemed like perfectly reasonable smugglers. They…smiled and everything! The goods are valuable, however. And illegal. And my client wants them very, very badly! You know how these templars can be."

Aria groaned at this. More dealings with templars. Exactly what she did _not_ need. "You're smuggling lyrium to the templars?"

"Maker's breath!" Varric exclaimed, exasperated. "Between the Chantry, the Carta, and the Coterie…"

"Shhh!" Anso squeaked, his apprehensive demeanor grating on her nerves. "By the Paragons! Not so loudly! My word, I'm not cut out for this. I should have taken that job sweeping stables like Mother insisted," he mournfully stated, rubbing his temples with his thick fingers.

"Make it worth my time, and I'll help you," Aria sniped, thoroughly put off by this annoying little man.

"Oh, I will! Or I'll try to. The gentlemen conduct their business at night in a little hovel within the alienage. If you have to kill them, then I guess it can't be avoided," he simpered, wringing his hands together nervously. "But I'm sure they'll be reasonable!" he squeaked as an afterthought.

"C'mon," Aria said, turning towards her companions. "Looks like we are going to go get our hands very dirty."

They went swiftly to the elven alienage, none of them really speaking of anything. Aria could feel their stares at her back. Anders was brooding and apologetic, Varric and Bethany curious as to what had obviously transpired between the two.

As soon as they alighted the steps leading down into the dirty, despair-ridden part of town that housed the city's elven population, more of Sharp's Highwaymen greeted them. Aria attacked with the same fervor and rage as she had before, mercilessly cutting down every thief in her path.

It was a quick affair, affording little banter between their group of vigilantes. Aria worked at the lock on the little hovel with a small hair pin she'd yanked from her head and they moved inside. It was quiet and wreaked of body odor and the stench of stale liquor and cigar smoke. She motioned for her companions to be silent and she listened for signs of any of the highwaymen.

Aria motioned to the door in front of them, alerting the rest of the group to the presence of the criminals. She kicked the door open and they made quick work of the thieves within. They found no chest in that room and continued searching the tiny, dilapidated little house.

After dispatching of the onslaught of marauders who ambushed them, she searched that room for Anso's supposed lyrium cache. The search turned up fruitless, as the chest there was empty. Her ire mounting at having been lured into a game of cat and mouse, she stormed outside to the main room of the hovel.

"It was empty!" Aria raged, her hand turning the doorknob to head back into the alienage.

"Waste of bloody time," Varric added his own sentiment. "Who put us up to this?"

Aria opened the door, glaring at no one in particular as she replied, "I guess we have to go back to Anso and tell him it's empty. Then I'm going to ask him what the hell he's playing at."

Before their feet had even cleared the threshold, a sizeable force of warriors bearing Tevinter arms awaited them, and their faces bore shock when they saw Aria's team.

"That's not the elf!" the female commander of the gang exclaimed.

"Doesn't matter—he said kill whoever comes out of the house," one of the other men said, unsheathing his sword and swinging it, as though it would instill some sort of fear in Aria.

"And it just doesn't end," Aria spat, drawing her daggers and going to work again.

They fought for nearly an hour, dispatching of the group of about twenty men. As the battle was seemingly finished, an impressive looking man descended the steps, his eyes cold and vengeful. His clothing spoke of Tevinter origin. And his demeanor was of one used to being in command. Aria lithely swung her daggers, her wrists flicking them through rigorous, beautiful kata in irksome trepidation.

"I don't know who you are, friend," his gravelly voice sounded as he walked up to them, "But you've made a serious mistake coming here. Lieutenant!" He glanced behind him, then returned his hard gaze to Aria, who glared right back. "I want everyone in the clearing! Now!"

The chink of mail and armour greeted her ears and scraping, weary footsteps followed. A Tevinter soldier appeared, his arm across his chest, his sword hanging limply in his other hand. Blood flowed from under the mail and left pools as he walked.

"Captain!" he gurgled before he fell over to the ground, the life gone from him.

Another figured appeared in the Tevinter soldier's wake, lithe and lanky, and moving with lethal, predatory grace. His head was adorned with reckless, silken, shaggy silver hair. His ears curved to slender tips well away from his head. His gaunt, handsome face was beset with cold, vivid emerald eyes. The most striking thing about him, however, were the shimmering white designs emblazoned on his skin, from his chin to his fingers and everywhere else his skin was visible.

Aria blinked a few times, trying to assess exactly what was happening. He was clearly an elf, but unlike any she had ever before seen. He was tall and lanky, strength radiated from him—and he appeared very, very deadly. His manner was feral, but controlled with ironclad discipline. She readied her daggers, preparing to spring back into battle.

The Captain regarded the newcomer with disgust, sniggering as the impressive elf strode down to them.

"Your men are dead," the elf's deep, raspy voice rent the silence. "And your trap has failed. I suggest running back to your master while you can." It was not a threat, but more a vow. His tone sent darts of ice singing down her spine.

"You're going nowhere, slave," the Tevinter captain sneered.

Aria hardly had time to blink before white light surrounded the elf and in the same instant, he appeared in front of the captain, his fist slamming clean through the man's chest. He crushed the man's heart right there, blood spewing forth from the cavern his lyrium hand had momentarily created.

"I am _not_ a slave," the elf said, his deep voice low and venomous. He yanked his hand from the man's chest and let him fall to the ground before turning to Aria.

She readied her weapons again, her eyes locked on his, her stance set so that all she need do was spring and the battle would begin anew. A slight, sardonic smile tugged at the corners of his surprisingly tempting mouth but disappeared quickly, replaced by something slightly akin to remorse.

"I apologize. When I asked Anso to provide a distraction for the hunters, I had no idea they'd be so…numerous," he said, pacing cagily as he spoke.

Aria lowered her weapons, her muscles remaining tense. "Don't worry. We do this sort of thing often," she lightly quipped, her gaze riveted on his face.

"Impressive," he silkily said, his eyes unabashedly traveling the length of her body then returning to hers. "My name is Fenris. These men were Imperial bounty hunters seeking to recover a magister's lost property, namely myself," he continued, pausing to judge her reaction to this. "They were trying to lure me into the open. Crude as their methods were, I could not face them alone. Thankfully, Anso chose wisely."

"That seems like a lot of effort to find one slave," she cautiously replied, sizing him up as he was her, shadowing his movements, her daggers at the ready. It was almost a dance the way they mirrored each other's pacing.

"It is," the elf, Fenris, said, ceasing his pacing for the moment once more.

"Does this have something to do with those markings?" she asked, pointing her dagger at his arms.

He chuckled bitterly, a low grating sound in his throat that made her pulse quicken unexpectedly. "Hmm-hmm—Yes, I imagine I must look strange to you. I did not receive these markings by choice. Even so, they have served me well. Without them, I would still be a slave."

"Anso's job did seem a little too easy," she teasingly said.

Anders coughed as though he'd suddenly gasped and accidentally swallowed in the process. She ignored him, though she did garner a sweet little bit of vindictive satisfaction that he'd been pricked by jealousy. Aria decided then that she wasn't going to sit around waiting for life to happen, for love to happen. She was done dealing with the past. It was time to move forward, in every sense of the word.

Fenris's visage waxed apologetic again. "Perhaps the deception was unnecessary. If so, I am sorry. I have become too accustomed to hiding," he said, his voice velvet over crushed diamonds. He looked her in the eyes questioningly. "If I may ask; what was in the chest? The one they kept in the house?"

Aria shrugged, sighing, "It was empty."

The elf also sighed. "I suppose it was too much to hope for. Even so, I had to know."

Her curiosity piqued, Aria sought more information. "You were expecting something else?"

"I was, but I shouldn't have. It was bait, nothing more."

"All that for an empty chest?" Aria asked, her voice teasing again.

The expression on his face hardened and grew bitter. "No," he said, leaning down to search the Tevinter captain whose heart he'd crushed. "It's as I thought," he softly remarked, looking at a piece of parchment he'd fished from the man's corpse. "My former master accompanied them to the city. I know you have questions, but I must confront him before he flees. I will need your help."

The elf rounded on her, his hard, green eyes drilling straight through her, straight into her soul. It made her uncomfortable, but at the same time, she felt as though something within her was stirring. Something Anders had awoken. However, she had her reservations and his stark expectancy touched a nerve.

"You lured me into a trap and now you want my help?" she asked, doing nothing to keep the bite from her tone.

He chuckled, as though her ire was something he could nonchalantly disregard. "If Anso told you to divert a bunch of Tevinter bounty hunters, would you have done it?"

At this, Varric laughed. "Ha! With the tear she's been on this evening, she'd have probably accepted with a bloodthirsty grin."

Aria shot him a look full of venom. Varric only smiled sweetly back at her.

Fenris chuckled again. "Had I known you earlier, I'd have asked you personally," he said, his eyes giving her the once over again. "I had only Anso to rely on, I fear. I am not lying to you now. Please help me do this."

She looked back at Varric, Anders, and Bethany, trying to gauge their impressions of him. Anders's eyes were dark and cold, affording the elf no courtesy. Bethany seemed innocently intrigued. Varric—Varric was up for anything.

Aria turned back to Fenris, finding him watching her as one would look at an interesting, complex puzzle. "Looks like it's going to be a long night," she relented.

The elf stepped forward, his hand resting on her shoulder, an earnest light in his eyes. "I will find a way to repay you. I swear it. The magister is staying at a mansion in Hightown. Meet me there as soon as you can. We must enter before morning."

Aria watched him sprint away, melting into the shadows with the grace and precision of a fierce nocturnal predator. Her eyes lingered on the last spot she'd glimpsed him for a moment longer than was necessary and when she turned back to her companions, Varric started laughing.

"Blondie, if looks could kill, I think that elf's heart punch maneuver would be rendered absolutely useless."

Anders glared at the dwarf. "I don't like him. He assumes too much."

Bethany gave Aria a knowing smile and shook her head. "Sister, what have you gotten up to now?"

"What?" Aria vexedly asked, sheathing her daggers on her back once more.

Bethany laughed softly to herself. "Nothing. Shall we go?"

"We shall," Aria said, emphasis on the 'we' that implied that Bethany was excluded.

"I'm not going?" Bethany asked, her expression slightly pained.

"Hightown? Fighting in a mansion? Close to where templars and guards patrol routinely?" Varric interjected, coming to Aria's defense.

Bethany groaned. "You know, one of these days I'm not going to listen to you when you tell me to go home."

"But that day isn't today," Aria playfully said. "Go home. I'll be back as soon as I am able."

"All right, sister. But do be careful. I have a bad feeling about this."

They escorted Bethany back to Gamlen's, then headed up to Hightown. As they turned down the street where most of the estates stood, the wan light of the moon glinted off the elf's silvery head, catching her eye. He surreptitiously waved them over.

"No one has left the mansion, but I've heard nothing within," he softly said once they'd reached him where he hid behind the bushes next to the mansion's entrance. "Danarius may know we're here. I wouldn't put it past him."

Aria scanned the mansion's windows, seeking movement or any other telltale sign of occupation. She found none. She turned back to look at Fenris.

"I could stand to know a little more about this Danarius," she quietly said, careful to keep her voice as low as possible.

"He is a magister of the Tevinter Imperium," came Fenris's reply.

Varric groaned. "Oh, is that all? Nothing to worry about then," he said, throwing his hands in the air in exasperation.

"There, he is a wealthy mage with great influence," Fenris said, his voice low and seething. "Here, he is but a man who sweats like any other when death comes for him."

"What's the worst that could happen?" Aria snidely whispered, her eyes sympathizing with Varric.

"I do not fear death," Fenris's voice came soft and chastising. "That does not mean we should be reckless."

Aria shrugged and unsheathed her daggers, flicking her wrists and sending them dancing in her hands. "Let's see what he's up to then, shall we?"

They entered the mansion. A few torches were lit in their sconces, and by their smell they'd been lit for some time. Some of them were smoldering, acrid smoke wafting from their dead embers. They'd burned themselves out.

"I am not afraid of you, Danarius!" Fenris bellowed, brandishing his longsword at the shadows.

As if on cue, several shades appeared from the mansion's dirty stone floor. Aria had never seen one up close, but her father had killed a few back in Lothering while she watched. She attacked them as she would any normal foe, and surely enough, they fell.

There were many of them. They moved like shadows and their otherworldly eyes glowed malevolently in their faceless heads. She darted sideways as one's poisonous claws sought to shred her abdomen, and in her haste, she ran smack into another one.

Its arm snaked around her throat and she flipped the grip on one of her daggers, stabbing it deeply into the demonic form's torso. Its grip tightened and she felt its hot breath on her neck. Fenris lunged in front of her, swinging a devastating, wide arc over her head and rending the spirit's head from its body.

It disappeared in a cloud of noxious smoke that left her gagging. Anders raced to her side, inspecting her for injury. He offered her a small vial of clear, crimson liquid that she drank, murmuring her thanks. He palmed her cheek, his dark eyes boring into her golden brown ones. She realized she'd frightened him and it pained her. She didn't want to hurt him anymore than he wanted to hurt her.

"He sends spirits to do his fighting for him," Fenris rasped, ignoring them for the moment. "Danarius! Can you hear me? Your pets cannot stop us!" the elf raged.

Aria followed him into the next room, a great hall with two staircases that led to a single balcony and blended into the mansion's second floor. They were immediately assaulted by a great number of shades. Joining the shades were rage demons.

As the fight progressed, Aria found herself driven to the other side of the hall. She opened the door at her back to escape, unable to fend off so many foes at once. Anders and Varric were on the stairs, dealing with a group of shades. Fenris finished off a shade he was battling and saw her plight.

She ran into the corridor on the other side of the door, her back to the wall. She engaged the shades again, Fenris attacking their flank while she kept them occupied on the frontline. She whirled and danced, narrowly evading their vicious, poison-tipped claws while her daggers ripped and stabbed at whatever vulnerable points she could recognize and access.

Anders and Varric surged through the door and joined them, rallying them to victory. They searched the rooms on this side of the great hall, finding them empty of the Tevinter magister.

"Probably locked himself in his study," Fenris gratingly stated as they went back to the great hall.

"Don't look now, but I don't think we're quite finished," Aria curtly replied, pointing her dagger at the Arcane Horror that had just appeared on the balcony.

With a cry of independence-fueled rage, Fenris charged up the steps. Aria pursued, Anders and Varric hot on her heels. They dispatched of the small army of shades and rage demons, along with the Horror. They cleared the two rooms on both sides of the giant locked door that led to Danarius's study and found the key for it on the Horror's corpse.

They stormed the study, only to find it empty.

"Gone," Fenris bitterly spat, his shoulders hunching and his head falling, his chin resting on his chest for a moment. He lifted it again a second later, turning to Aria. "I had hoped…no. It doesn't matter any longer," he said, shaking his head to dispel the thought he'd had. "I assume Danarius left valuables behind. Take them if you wish. I…need some air."

Aria watched him leave, waiting until his silver head disappeared down the steps before turning to Varric and Anders. Varric shrugged and started picking the locks on the many chests in this room. Anders looked through the cupboards and the desk. Aria stood and watched them, ready to battle if any more demonic spirits lingered.

They found some coin purses, some vials containing healing elixirs and lyrium, as well as a few valuable gems. Once they were satisfied with their take, they ventured back down to the great hall. Aria was keenly aware of the weight of Anders's stare and did not object when he drew his arm around her waist as they walked back towards the entrance. Varric wisely kept his mouth shut, though his brows raised slightly when he witnessed their actions.

Anders held the door for her as they exited the mansion and he positioned himself away from her when they joined Fenris on the terrace.

"It never ends," Fenris bitterly stated once Aria had closed the mansion's door, his hands resting on the stone fence as he looked out at the empty street. "I escaped a land of dark magic only to have it hunt me at every turn. It is a plague burned into my flesh and soul," he said, turning to face her, his visage a mask of resentment and hatred. "And now I find myself in the company of more mages." His cold green stare landed directly on Anders.

"Ah, here it comes," Anders sarcastically replied, his eyes pleading with Aria.

"I saw you casting spells inside," Fenris said, his distaste barely contained. "I should have realized sooner what you really were." He turned to Aria, his expression condemnatory. "You harbour a viper in your midst. It will turn on you and strike when you least expect. That is in its nature."

"_He_, not 'it'. You're talking about a Grey Warden and a healer," Aria said, springing to Anders's defense, her hand resting carefully on the hilt of her dagger over her shoulder.

Fenris's gaze shifted at her slight movement and his eyes shot back to hers, questioning.

"And a few other things. But let's not mention those," Anders added, his fingers flexing nervously around his staff.

"I'm not blind. I know magic has its uses, and there are undoubtedly mages with good intentions. But even the best-intentioned mage can fall prey to temptation, and then their power is a curse to inflict upon others," Fenris retorted, his prejudice openly evident.

"Considering all the curses inflicted upon us, I'd say it's an even trade," Anders replied, his dark eyes flashing and leaving Aria to wonder if Justice was about to rear his vengeful head.

"I imagine I appear ungrateful," Fenris said, turning back to Aria, his eyes sweeping over her again. It made her nervous in a way she didn't quite fully understand. It was as though he was constantly assessing her, grading her, measuring her up against…something. "If so, I apologize, for nothing could be farther from the truth. I did not find Danarius, but I still owe you a debt. Here is all the coin I have, as Anso promised," he said, placing a bag of coin in her hand, his touch sending a jolt through her, even in its brevity. He didn't act like it affected him. "Should you find yourself in need of assistance, I would gladly render it."

Aria nodded politely, willing her heart to quit hammering and pocketed the coin, though she had half a mind not to accept it. "You've said Danarius is a magister, but little else."

"In Tevinter, the magisters hold all the power over the Chantry, over the Imperial Court, over life itself," the elf explained, beginning to pace again. He reminded her very much of a caged, wounded animal. A very dangerous, caged, wounded animal. "It is nothing for one to own a slave. Danarius had many, but none he valued so much as me."

"Then how did you get away?" Aria replied, crossing her arms over her chest against the chill the night had taken as a soft breeze blew over them.

"Is it not enough that I did?" Fenris hedged, his green eyes flashing hurt for a brief instant. "I carved my path to freedom in blood. I left that life behind, yet his bounty hunters follow me no matter where I go. I will run no longer."

"Are you going to have a problem with my companions?" Aria queried, indicating Anders with the wave of her hand.

Fenris regarded the mage with cold calculation for a moment. Anders's eyes flashed the same contempt right back at him.

"I will watch them carefully if we travel together. I can promise no more," Fenris finally replied, his words spoken with great caution.

"I'm planning an expedition I might need help with," Aria said, drawing the elf's attention back to her.

He bowed slightly, his eyes boring into hers again. "Fair enough. Should you ever have need of me, I will be here. If Danarius wishes his mansion back, he is free to return and claim it. Beyond that, I am at your disposal."


	10. Chapter NINE

**Chapter Nine**

By the time Aria reached the steps leading to Gamlen's hovel, dawn was breaking over the city. Merchants were arriving at their stands and setting up their wares for the day's bargaining. Anders stood there with her, having escorted her once Varric was safely back at the Hanged Man. They had walked in silence, stealing glances at each other, trying to gauge the other's emotional state.

"Aria, listen to me," Anders said as she moved to place a foot on the first step, his hand snagging her elbow gently.

She turned to face him slowly, keeping her eyes down, her foot sliding back off the step.

"Look at me," he gently commanded, his voice breaking.

Aria lifted her head, her eyes finally finding his. They stood there for a moment, gazes locked. She could read remorse and heartbreak in his expression. His eyes pleaded with her, but for what she was uncertain.

"Earlier, when I said we couldn't—"

"What's done is done, Anders," she softly cut him off. "No need to revisit it. Does your stance remain the same?"

"Yes, but if you would just listen—"

"Then we have no more to say to each other on the matter," she interrupted again, her voice tired and flat, her eyes leaving his for favor of her feet again.

He tilted her chin up and cupped her face, desperate to make her understand. He couldn't have her like he wanted, but he wouldn't survive losing her altogether, either. "You have become more precious to me than anything in my life. I am trying, desperately, to make you understand."

"I know your reasons, Anders," she replied, gently taking his hands away from her face and releasing them at his sides. "I just wish—you were surer of yourself. You're stronger than your fear of Justice."

"My fear is not of Justice. Can't you see that?" he begged of her, his dark eyes pools of grief. "My fear is of hurting you."

"Then don't," she flatly replied, turning and making it up three steps before another voice hailed her.

"Hawke! Up bright and early I see! Come! You'll want to see this," Aveline's voice rang out.

Aria groaned and squeezed her eyes tightly shut. It was going to be a very, very long day. She turned in Aveline's direction, finding Anders shaking his head sadly.

"What is it I am going to see?" Aria resignedly asked, coming back down the steps to greet her good friend.

"Justice," Aveline said with a cocky smirk, her emerald eyes sparkling. Anders understandably winced at the term.

"Lead on," Aria said.

Anders fell into step behind the guard, next to Aria. He wouldn't leave her when she was so weary. Especially after the wounds he'd inflicted upon her heart last night. He would make her understand, so that when she looked at him, it didn't shatter him to pieces. He couldn't bear the pain in her eyes, nor could he bear the flatness that had taken them when they used to sizzle and pop with life. But he would not survive it if Justice destroyed her just because she had feelings for him. Or because he had feelings for her.

As they passed through the doors into the guards' quarters at the Viscount's keep, Aria could hear someone yelling. She smiled to herself at the voice.

"How dare you! I am guard captain! I won't be treated like this!"

It was at that moment that Aria, Aveline, and Anders walked into the captain's office. His eyes shot daggers at Aveline.

"Fereldan bitch! This was none of your affair! I'll see you hanged! Quartered! This will not stand!"

Aria watched as the guards dragged the screaming man down the hall. Once they disappeared from sight, she turned to see Seneschal Brann enter the room. He was the Viscount's right hand man, and a royal pain in the ass. Conceited. Haughty. He looked down his nose at everyone who passed by him.

"We found a number of debts to…suspect peoples. Such poor character," he delicately sniffed, as though something particularly foul had just landed under his nose. "But you, Aveline Vallen, have proven your loyalty and ability."

Aveline lifted her head nobly, her back straightening as if she'd been called to attention. "The guard deserves better than him, messere."

"Indeed," Seneschal Brann concurred. A smile split his lips as he continued, "the Viscount would have you put your care for the men into direct practice. You will assume the captain's job."

Aveline's face lit up like a thousand torches. "What?" she asked with pleasant incredulity.

"In due time of course," the Seneschal chuckled, dabbing delicately at his eye as though he'd just made the most hilarious of jokes. "There will be training, approvals. Months, at least. But who better to rebuild respect than the woman who exposed this embarrassment? Resolve any outstanding business, Guardswoman. You will be very busy."

They watched him go and Aria turned to Aveline once he had disappeared from view. Aveline looked starstruck, a smug grin spreading her thin lips.

"Big changes are coming, huh?" she said, her eyes off somewhere in dreams of justice and prosperity. "Captain of the guard. Thank you, Wesley."

"That you keep his memory speaks well of him," Aria ventured, knowing this was a soft spot for her friend.

Aveline turned to her, her green eyes suddenly hard. "He's not with me. I know that. Wesley's at the Maker's side, or he's not. Either way, he knows no pain."

Aria smiled despite the flintiness of her response. "He seemed a good man, for a templar. I'm sure he's found peace."

Aveline nodded. "What I keep is that moment. I won't let anyone down like that again."

"You clearly miss Wesley, but that's not the issue?" Aria ventured.

"Of course I miss him!" Aveline said, sounding wounded. "But he's not coming back. Pining like a child serves no one. So I remember him, but I let him rest."

"You're not so kind to yourself though," Aria pointedly said.

"No," Aveline flatly replied.

Seeing that the topic was clearly finished, Aria's normal humour returned. "I could get used to having the law on my side."

Aveline glared at her, pointing a finger into her chest. "You'll behave yourself, is what you'll do," she threatened. "I just sent Jeven to prison over corruption. I won't go the same road."

Aria pouted, her tawny eyes sparkling even though dark circles had formed under them. "You never let me have any fun."

"I think that's best for everyone," Aveline replied, her tone jovial and teasing.

"I look forward to working with you, Guard-Captain Aveline," Aria giggled.

"Still strange, isn't it?" Aveline mused, more to herself than to anyone else. "Captain of the Guard. Thank you for helping me get here, Hawke. It's where I should be."

Aria bowed and when she straightened, she stretched her arms over her head and yawned.

"Maker's breath, Hawke. You look like hell. Didn't you sleep well last night?" Aveline said, as if she was seeing Aria for the first time today.

Anders chuckled, his chocolate eyes warm and teasing. "She had a long night."

Aveline quirked a brow. "And you had something to do with that?" she said, speaking to the innuendo that Anders hadn't exactly tried to hide when he spoke.

"He did, Varric did, and there was this elf…" Aria hadn't meant to trail off the wistful way she did. It was not unnoticed by Anders and his demeanor instantly changed.

"Hawke!" Aveline gaped. "What in all the Maker's lands—"

"Oh, sweet Andraste Aveline! What do you take me for? Some common Lowtown bar-crawling harlot?" Aria accused, the humour of it all not completely lost on her. "I was up all night chasing down Tevinter slave hunters who were after their master's prize slave. The prize slave happens to be a very…cantankerous, but very unique elf."

"Oh?" Aveline asked, her interest aroused. "I had noise complaints on my desk last night about a mansion in Hightown and it happens to be owned by a Tevinter."

"Yeah, that was us," Anders quipped, his dark eyes hard and cold onyx as he stared at Aria.

"Please tell me you were successful so I don't have to deal with it," Aveline said, sitting down in the captain's chair and looking around what was now her office.

Aria smiled at the expression on Aveline's face. "We were. And now, if you please, I haven't seen my bed in over a day and a half. Though I hate the damn thing, I'm quite happy to go to it."

"Of course, Hawke," Aveline distractedly said.

Anders escorted Aria back to Lowtown. The walk from Hightown had been silent, but she could feel his ire radiating off him in tepid waves. They reached the marketplace before he finally decided to address her.

"Do you think he's attractive?"

She stopped walking and met his gaze, unnerved by the hardness jealousy lent his tone. "Who? The armourer? Ugh. Not at all," she deflected.

"Don't toy with me," he quipped. "You know who I mean."

"Fenris? He is—strange," Aria carefully replied.

"But not in a bad way?" Anders snarled.

Aria sighed. "May I please just go home now? I don't have the strength or energy to fight anymore today."

"He's going to turn you against me."

Aria threw her hands up in the air in exasperation. "Maker's Breath and Andraste's Tits! You really need to make up your damned mind!"

"I have!"

"Oh really? Either I'm yours, or I'm not. Simple as that," she tiredly replied, starting to walk toward her home again. "You can't have me, but not have me."

He shadowed her steps. "It is _not_ as simple as that, Aria!"

She tossed her shoulder, waving her hand in dismissal. "It is that simple."

Anders grabbed her arm and yanked her to him, staring down into her eyes. "The—feelings I have for you, Aria… They'll only lead to your demise, and that would be the end of me."

"How about you do me a favor," she quietly said, venom sluicing her undertone, "and either deny any feeling for me or claim them and deal with the damn consequences as they come."

He released her, throwing his arms up in his own vexed exasperation. "You're dealing with absolutes! There are far too many variables at play here! It's not black and white. It's…all shades of grey."

Aria shook her head and turned away from him, stalking down the street towards home.

"Aria!" he called after her, but she didn't stop, turn, or even indicate she'd heard him. "Aria, please!"

She kept walking. She was tired of this. Either he felt for her, or he didn't. Whether or not his denial was genuine was his to deal with, not hers. She wouldn't live in this world being torn apart by things she couldn't have. She wasn't going to chase dreams that couldn't come true. Nothing good could come of it. No matter how hard he wanted her to understand, she just wanted peace. She felt she deserved that much.

As she walked through the door, Gamlen unleashed another bevy of insults and accusations at her. She drew a blood-stained dagger and pointed it at him, inches from his chest. His eyes widened in shock and his mouth gaped open, but he was blessedly silent.

"Old man, I've had about all I'm going to take out of anyone for at least a week. Call me a whore, accuse me of gallivanting around without a care, and I'll show you _exactly_ what I've really been up to. Would you like a demonstration?" Aria boomed, pressing the dagger just hard enough into his shirt to show she meant every word.

He shook his head.

"Good. Now leave me alone. I haven't slept in over a day and a half, I've dealt with the most caustic personalities, and the next person to piss me off is going to get a dagger clean through their heart. Understood?"

He nodded mutely and she sheathed her dagger, stalking off to her bed. Bethany lay still asleep on the bottom bunk, her face the picture of sweet innocence. Aria smiled and stripped off her armour, then crawled under the scratchy blankets. She was asleep before her head even touched her pillow.


	11. Chapter TEN

**Chapter Ten**

It was nearly dusk when Aria woke. She heard the clinking of metal against metal as her mother prepared the evening meal. Probably a weak stew again. Aria planned on doing some shopping for food at the market again, but the waning light of day told her this venture could not be undertaken until tomorrow.

She lay in her uncomfortable, tiny top bunk for a few moments, just listening. Gamlen was not in the house. From the sounds of it, neither was Bethany. Sighing, she tossed off the thin, scratchy, moth-eaten wool blanket and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Groaning sleepily, she vaulted herself to the floor.

Every muscle in her body was sore, though not as badly as nearly a week ago. She was steadily getting used to this new lifestyle she'd adopted. Her muscles responded more quickly and with more force. Her balance was improving dramatically, though she'd never been called graceless. Her skill with the daggers was leaps and bounds better than what it was a little over a year ago in Lothering.

Maker, had it only been a year? She felt as though she'd aged centuries since then. Sighing, she decided to make her wakefulness known and opened the bedroom door.

"Child of mine, why have you been so late to bed these past couple of weeks?" Leandra Hawke asked from her position by the fire.

Besides the large kettle, the three large buckets they used to heat bathwater were immersed in the coals, their bottoms glowing red.

"Good evening, Mother. I'm sorry—work has kept me out late and there has been naught I could do about it," Aria sweetly replied, kissing the top of her mother's head.

"What work have you been doing? Mercenary work? You aren't back working for Athenril, are you?" her mother asked, fearing for her child's welfare.

"Not directly. I'll have you know last night I spent the night ensuring the freedom of an escaped Tevinter slave," Aria answered, stretching her arms above her head to relieve the knot of tension that coiled in her upper back.

"Your father would be proud," Leandra whispered, stirring the stew on the hearth. "I was going to wake you in a few minutes, but you saved me the trouble. I have some bathwater ready for you at Bethany's behest. She said you would appreciate it."

"And I certainly do," Aria replied, reading more letters for her on the desk. It was then that she noticed the enormous bouquet of lilacs, lavender, white roses, and Andraste's Grace sitting in mother's favorite vase on the work bench. "What are those?"

"Oh! Those are for you. A rather handsome young fellow brought them a few hours ago. He said he wanted to apologize, but for what he did not say."

"What did he look like?" Aria asked, bending to sniff the lilacs and lavender. They were her favorite.

"He was tall. Carried a staff like Bethany. Golden haired and dark-eyed. He looked a mess," Leandra answered. She knew it was Anders.

Aria groaned in response, thumping her forehead against the hovel's wall a few times before turning to her mother, who was smiling secretively to herself as she watched her daughter.

"I think a hot bath is in order. And then I have some business to attend to in Hightown," Aria said when her mother gave her a curious look.

"Is he a noble?" Leandra asked.

"What?"

"The person you are going to see. Is he a noble?"

"I didn't say I was going to see anyone," Aria gently hedged. "I simply have business there tonight."

Leandra simply chuckled to herself and went back to preparing the meal, pointedly ignoring her daughter as she hummed a common Fereldan love song to herself. Aria took the water into the washroom and emptied it into the small tub. She let it cool for a few minutes, letting her sleep-tousled hair down from its pins and combing out the snarls.

She loved these small luxuries. The hot water instantly relaxed and soothed her aching muscles and bones. The scent of the soap Bethany had made for her always chased away her troubles and left her in the most beautifully blissful state. She didn't linger as long as normal, though, wanting to head up to Hightown and chase down some of the leads Athenril had blessed her with before the night got too late. She wanted to be in bed again well before dawn.

Aria reluctantly stood and stepped out of the tub, wrapping a clean sheet around her body. She applied the moisturizing oil she was so fond of to every inch of her skin, then set to work combing her hair. She took the top half of it and secured it in an intricate, elegant knot on top of her head, leaving the rest to flow around her shoulders and down her back. The luminescent, silvery mass cascaded nearly to her waist.

She emerged from the washroom, clad in a soft cream peasant dress popular amongst the slightly better-off in Lowtown. Its bodice was laced with mauve cord and stopped just below the bosom, where the white sewn-in blouse underneath took over. The white bell sleeves were slightly off shoulder. She donned her favorite doeskin boots while sitting at the dining table and ate with her mother.

"You should leave your hair down more often, Aria," her mother said as they began to eat.

"Most of the time I cannot afford to," Aria replied through a mouthful of the surprisingly rich stew. She broke off a piece of the fresh loaf of bread and handed it to her mother before taking a piece for herself.

"You do dangerous work," Leandra acknowledged, delicately chewing a piece of beef that she spooned into her mouth.

"Where is Bethany?" Aria asked after a couple of silent minutes.

"She left with the gentleman that brought the flowers," Leandra said simply.

"Did she say what they were doing?"

"Helping at his clinic. There was a bout of the cough that sprang up and he required her aid."

Aria nodded and lifted her bowl, hungrily drinking the remaining broth. She swiped at her mouth with the flimsy napkin her mother had laid out for her.

"What is going on between you and him?" Leandra asked as her child finished eating and grabbed her implements from the bedroom.

"Absolutely nothing," Aria bitterly said, trying to keep her voice from being too harsh. She strapped the sheaths for her daggers over her shoulders, her mother assisting with buckling them.

Leandra watched as her daughter drew her buff colored cloak on, hiding the daggers sheathed on her shoulders. "It certainly seems as though it's quite a bit more than nothing," Leandra passively stated.

Aria sighed. "It's a case of the wants-but-cannot-have-for-silly-reasons."

"Well, who is the wanter and who is the cannot have?"

At this, Aria had to laugh. "He has feelings for me that he will not engage for fear of hurting me."

Leandra's expression darkened slightly. "That's silly. Why would he hurt you?"

"Mama, he has a very unique set of circumstances. But he doubts his strength, needlessly. And in that doubt, he fears breaking my heart."

"It seems to me, he is doomed to do so no matter what. Might as well enjoy what he can and damn the consequences."

Aria was a little surprised at her mother's liberal train of thought, though it was parallel with her own. "Exactly my thinking." She bent and kissed her mother on the top of the head, holding the hand she extended.

"I hope you're not out too late tonight, my child. You have been so weary as of late."

"I'll try to be back at a decent hour, I promise," Aria said, making her departure.

The heat of the day still radiated off the city's streets and buildings as Aria alighted the steps from Gamlen's house. She quickly walked through Lowtown, drawing the hood of her cloak over her head so that she may pass through this part of town unrecognized.

She nimbly took the steps leading up to Hightown two at a time and removed her hood once she'd cleared them. The heat was stifling, even in the growing dark. She caught one of the merchants Athenril's letter had mentioned as he was closing up his shop.

"Hear you're having problems with the Bone Pit," she said, to the man, Hubert—he ran an eclectic shop renowned for its quality goods. She realized he was the flippant Orlesian she'd talked to a little over a week ago. "I can help."

He threw up his arms. "Eh! Finally someone comes to help me. You look a bit unseasoned, but I hope you will do."

Aria glared at him. "Appearances aren't everything, messere. I may not look the part, but that is my greatest asset."

"Indeed. I had to suspend operations!" he continued with his thick, ridiculous Orlesian accent. "My workers are lost in the mines or have run off. Serves me right for hiring Fereldan refugees. I sent other before, but no word. Perhaps they are putting me off! I need someone competent to figure out what is going on."

Aria's glare hardened. "You said some of your workers are Fereldan?" she said, malice slicing through her voice.

"Yes! All of them. An unruly lot to be sure," he said, oblivious to her change in expression.

"Mind what you say about my countrymen if you wish to have my help at all," she warned, pointedly patting the hilt of one of her daggers over her shoulder.

"I was not referring to you, of course!" the slippery Orlesian backpedaled. "My workers are a particularly desperate sort. They are lucky to work for me. Few in Kirkwall will hire refugees."

"Surely the miners had good reason to leave," Aria accusingly stated.

"I am at a loss," he said, his statement seemingly genuine. "No miner has reported in, and no one takes me seriously."

"The Bone Pit must be dangerous if people are afraid to venture there," she said, her assessment of Hubert not going so well in his favor. He was an idiot, and that was being more than nice.

"No, nothing like that. Pay no heed to local superstition. The Bone Pit is mostly harmless."

Seeing that there was no way to really make any headway with this moron, Aria simply said, "I'll head there soon."

"The sooner the better. Each day the mine is not running costs me more than these miners make in a year. The Bone Pit is just outside the city. Any map will show it," Hubert replied.

_Ha, _she thought to herself. _You're going to wait a while before you hear from me. See how favorable you are towards my countrymen when you've lost your ass in gold._

Aria turned away from him and started walking across the Hightown merchant square, towards the robe shop run by Jean Luc, when she noticed someone leaning on the pillar beside the armour stand to her left. The figure was lean, lank, and lithe and she immediately recognized the silhouette.

Her golden brown gaze met the cool, calculating green one and she stopped. He inclined his silver head politely and gracefully pushed his shoulder off the pillar. She watched him stride towards her, his movements as fluid and loose as a mountain lion.

"My lady," Fenris said as he reached her, offering her his arm. "Why are you in Hightown this evening?"

She fought the blush that rose to her cheeks at his greeting. She wasn't a "Lady". At least, not yet. Perhaps when she took back the Amell estate for her Mother, she would be. But for now, the title was flattering.

"I am chasing down some leads on some work," Aria replied, taking his arm and satisfied that her voice did not give away the fact that she was all aflutter on the inside.

"Any luck?" he asked.

"A little, yes."

"Hubert is a bit on the—willfully ignorant side," Fenris said, his voice deep and slightly raspy.

"Precisely what I was thinking, except in a little less flattering terms," Aria laughed, allowing him to lead her up the steps towards the estates.

"Where is it you are going now?" he asked, turning to look her in the eyes for a brief instant as they walked.

"Actually, I'm just wandering at this point. Had to get out of the house before I murdered my uncle, to be perfectly honest."

"He is particularly irksome?" Fenris asked, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

She had to consciously force herself to look away from his mouth. "That would be the understatement of the age," she replied darkly, glowering ahead of them.

"So, you are in need of distraction, then?" he asked, turning toward the estate that they'd broken into the night before, the one belonging to Danarius.

"I am, so long as it does not involve the use of weapons, magic, or trickery."

He chuckled at this, a comely, husky, rasping deep within his throat. "In that case, I think I may be able to provide it for you. Come, have a few drinks with me in my stolen palace," he said, opening the door for her.

Aria laughed, throwing her head back slightly. "Oh, such music to my ears," she said, entering the mansion.

Once inside, he took her cloak and hung it on the rack by the door. His skin was quite warm to the touch, as though he had fire coursing through his veins. She supposed it was the lyrium branding that was responsible. Still, she fought the chills that ran through her when his hands lightly brushed her shoulders.

"Go ahead upstairs to the main chamber. I'll be with you in a moment," Fenris gently commanded, his green eyes sparkling.

Aria studied his visage for a few seconds, noting that the harsh lines of anxiety and anger were much less visible. He looked several years younger and there was a vitality to him that was intoxicating. She hadn't garnered any of this last night; today, he was a completely different person. Er, elf, she mentally corrected. Whatever.

She smiled and bowed slightly, then made her way up the grand staircase to the sitting room they'd cleared only the night before. She sat in one of the luxuriously cushioned, ornately carved chairs that stood next to the enormous, lavish table.

Aria looked around the room, noting that much of the damage that had been done in their fight was cleared. It was a rather nice place. Much nicer than Gamlen's, anyway. Just as she was beginning to wonder where he'd disappeared to, the elf ascended the stairs, carrying two bottles of wine. He uncorked one and handed it to her, then uncorked the other for himself. They tapped the rims of the bottles together in a silent toast and took long draws from their respective bottles.

Fenris wiped his lips with his arm and looked at the label on the bottle. "Aggregio Pavali," he said and looked at her, his eyes aglow with an emotion she did not recognize. They were almost too bright, but so mesmerizing she couldn't look away. He took another long draw of it before continuing. "There are six bottles in the cellar. Danarius used to have me pour it for his guests. My appearance intimidated them, he said, which he enjoyed."

Aria nodded, also taking a long sip from her own bottle, which contained a much lighter colored wine. She read the label and found it to be some sort of Moscato. As she lowered the bottle she looked over at him.

His gaze studied her and it set a slow, smoldering sensation to burning within her abdomen. Her heart rate climbed slightly. She fought to keep her breathing even.

"I can't imagine why—perhaps they were more awed than intimidated," Aria said after a minute of locked gazes.

"I'll take that as a compliment," he chuckled, lifting the bottle to his lips and draining the remainder of the wine. He looked at the bottle and with an almost wicked smile, he threw it at the wall. It shattered upon impact, making Aria jump slightly at the noise.

"You could have offered me a glass first, you know," she lightly teased, finishing her own bottle and setting it on the table.

He tipped his head sideways, one brow lifting quizzically. "There's more, if you're really interested," he said, the innuendo in his tone not lost on her.

"Mmm. I've only just met you. I think one bottle of wine would suffice for my visit, lest we get too carried away. Besides, how else would you redecorate the walls?" she saucily replied, leaning back slightly in her chair and stretching her back a little.

He laughed, that low, deep rumble she was beginning to become fond of. "Hmm," he said, looking as though a particularly profound thought had occurred to him. "I've wanted to leave my past behind. But it won't stay there."

He sat next to her, adjusting in his seat so that he was turned toward her. The way he moved… It was mesmerizing to her. She had never seen another being so lithe and powerful; he moved like water over rocks, fluid and strong.

"Tell me, have you never wanted to return to Ferelden?" he asked, his eyes locked on hers.

"I have no home left to return to," Aria softly stated, feeling the effects of the wine already. Maker help her.

"The Blight is over," he said, leaning forward towards her. "You could rebuild what you lost. Do you truly not want to?"

"If I could, I would. There are some memories—best left behind," she replied, glancing down at her hands as she clasped them in her lap. "Even if I wanted to, Kirkwall is my home now."

"Having a place where you can put down roots. I understand. Still, to have the option…must be gratifying," Fenris mused.

The way he looked at her, the intensity of his gaze was unsettling, but not necessarily in a bad way. She wasn't quite sure what to make of it, still. He was making her all too aware of her own needs as a mature woman. She shifted in her seat slightly and his eyes flickered over her body for an instant. It brought heat to her cheeks. Thankfully, she could just blame the wine if he asked.

"You've been on the run a long time, then?" she asked, working to keep her voice smooth and nonchalant.

He sighed and sat back, his eyes going to the mantle on the fireplace for a moment and granting her a blessed momentary reprieve. "Three years now. Danarius has a way of finding me—perhaps, it is the markings? Whatever the means, it never takes him long to follow. This is the first time I've given him reason to pause. I suppose there are advantages in numbers," he mused aloud, his gaze returning to her.

"Haven't you sought help before?" Aria asked, surprised.

"Hirelings when I could steal the coin. Never anyone of substance—until you," he said, his voice perceptibly softening for a second, then regaining the flintiness he seemed to reserve for his former master. "Danarius will not give up, however. I await his return."

Aria smiled. "What if he does give up? What then?" she challenged.

"Then I go to him," Fenris bitterly stated. "I will not live with a wolf at my back."

"Were I in your situation, I feel I would do the same," she tactfully said, nervously turning the empty wine bottle on the table so she could look at the logo better.

"If it comes to that," he sighed. "I doubt it will."

"Do you intend to keep living here?" she asked.

He turned a little in his seat again, facing her more easily, his expression open. "I haven't decided. For now, it's as good as any other place. I would return to Seheron if I could but…there is no life for me there."

"Is that where you're from?"

"So I've been told," he replied, his eyes drilling into her soul again.

"Were you very young when you left, then?" she pressed, intrigued to be learning more about this very mysterious elf. She'd never in her life met anyone like him and she found him damnedly interesting.

"Perhaps," he said, leaning forward slightly more.

"I can't imagine a life like that. It must be—very difficult."

His eyes softened slightly, but his teeth seemed to set. "I am not made of glass," he replied. "I should thank you again for helping me against the hunters." His tone was genuinely appreciative.

"Yes, you should," she playfully replied and he returned the flirtatious smile she gave him.

His hand rested on hers on the table then, warm and rough on her much cooler, much smoother skin. "Had I known Anso would find me a woman so capable, I might have asked him to look sooner."

She swallowed the lump that had risen in her throat at his touch. "You sound as though you're asking for more," she quietly said, surprised at the slight huskiness in her tone.

He smiled and gently, lingeringly withdrew his hand from atop hers. "Well, this mansion does require some upkeep," he said lightly. He gracefully stood, offering her his arm to help her up.

She took it and allowed him to walk her towards the steps that led into the great hall and out the entryway.

They stood in the foyer for a moment, just watching each other, eyes locked for what seemed like forever but in reality could only have been a minute or less. He broke her gaze in order to fetch her cloak. She allowed him to help her don it, noticing that he inspected the daggers still sheathed on her back for a second before she adjusted the cloak around her shoulders.

"Perhaps I'll work on my flattery for your next visit?" he teased, turning the doorknob and gently tugging the door open, making a sweeping gesture with his arm as he lightly bowed. "With any luck, I'll become better at it."

She laughed despite herself and stepped through the doorway, looking over her shoulder. "I look forward to it. Thank you for the lovely evening."

"My pleasure, my lady," he said.

She continued down the pathway, feeling his gaze on her back as she went. She fought the urge to look back again and get one last glimpse of those intense, green eyes. But she didn't want to seem…desperate? Was that the word? There was a fine line between confident in what one wanted and outright desperation.

Confident in what one wanted. Dear Maker, she wanted that beautiful elf. What was wrong with her? She sighed to herself and drew her hood up over her head, hurrying back to Lowtown. She decided that she would stop in at the Hanged Man and see what Varric was up to. Perhaps he could provide a better distraction. Or at least a distraction from the one she already found and wasn't too comfortable with at the moment.

Maker help her.


	12. Chapter ELEVEN

**Chapter Eleven**

"How long will you be gone?" Bethany asked as she helped her sister pack her satchel. She swatted Aria's hands away when she tried to remove the soap, shampoo, and oil from the pack.

"I'm not quite certain. The Dalish could be anywhere within the mountains and the weather isn't looking to be too favorable," Aria replied, gathering the little vials containing health and stamina renewing potions within them and placing them in the small leather pouches sewn into her belt.

"Are you sure you don't want me to go with you? Flemeth might be more gracious if both of us come," Bethany worried.

"I'll be fine. Besides, if she turns on me, better that you're here with Mother. She won't survive the loss of another child," Aria softly said, carefully avoiding the look of hurt that swirled within the warm depths of Bethany's dark eyes.

"You think I can't handle myself?"

Aria sighed and straightened, resting her hands on her sister's shoulders and looking her squarely in the eyes. "I know you can handle yourself, Bethany. You're _my_ sister. I just don't want to take the chance that we might both be killed if things go awry. And I know you'll take care of Mother better than I could."

"You don't give yourself enough credit, Aria," Bethany said, a slight smile gracing her full lips.

"Neither do you. Now, let's hurry this up, shall we? Fenris and Anders might kill each other before we even leave if we don't."

Bethany helped her pack her remaining hip satchel and backpack, then walked down the stairs from Gamlen's house into the street together.

"This is slightly cruel of you, you know," Bethany gently chastised as they walked towards the gates that stood before the mountains.

"I beg your pardon?" Aria queried, confused.

"Taking Fenris _and_ Anders along."

Aria sighed. "It's not like I had a choice. Aveline is busy now that she's in training for Guard-Captain. I need you here with Mother. Besides, Varric is going. He can help me keep the peace."

"That's not what I mean, Aria," Bethany lightly stated. "Anders—he's hopelessly in love with you."

"Urngh. Not this. Not right now. If he's hopelessly in love, then he can say it to me himself; not use my sister as a pawn to lay guilt trips on me. And besides—this is all _his_ fault in the first place. He claims feelings but won't act on them," Aria flippantly ranted.

"And Fenris has expressed interest in you."

Aria stopped sharply to look at her sister. "What?"

"He's been grilling Varric and me every chance he gets about you. What tastes you have, how many battles you've fought, where we're from, what type of whetting stone you use on your blades," Bethany said, listing the things off on her fingers as she spoke. "He hides his motives very well and carries on decent conversation. But we know what he's really after."

Aria snorted as her sister pointed at her. "He has but passing interest in me. I'm his employer, honestly. It's good to know your boss." She kept walking.

"Deny all you want sister, but you're just as _passively interested_ in him," Bethany teased, jogging to catch up.

"Bah!" Aria said, waving dismissively at her sister.

Bethany laughed. "So why did you meet him in Hightown a few nights ago and drink a bottle of wine with him in his mansion?"

Aria stopped again and rounded on her sister. No one had known about that. Or so she thought. "I didn't—meet him there. I was following a lead from Athenril and talked to that stupid Orlesian, Hubert. Fenris just happened to be there, and I was in a companionable mood so I indulged. It's not like we…we…"

Bethany gasped, her eyes lit playfully within. "Aria!"

"I said we _didn't_, you wretch!" Aria shot back, blushing furiously and continuing stalking towards the gates.

"Uh huh. Just like you and Ser Devon didn't—"

That was going just a little too far. "Please—don't talk about him."

The heartrending pain that crossed Aria's visage lanced through Bethany. "Oh Sister, I'm sorry. I'm getting carried away. It's just—it's good for you, you know? I just am fond of Anders and don't like seeing him hurt, either."

Aria slowed her walking speed a little and looked over at her sister. "Anders's pain is of his own doing," she softly said. "I'm not waiting around for him to change his mind. I want to be happy, too."

"Fair enough," Bethany replied.

"Good. Now, no more talk of men. They're trouble enough and now they're close enough to hear," Aria said, her humour returning.

"Eh, let them. Could do them some good," Bethany said, knowing full well they could now be heard.

"Are we ready?" Aria asked as she strode up to where Anders, Varric, and Fenris waited, their own packs heavy.

"Took you long enough," Varric cajoled. "Let me guess, beauty nap?"

Aria picked up a small stone and launched it at him, hitting him in the breast plate. It bounced harmlessly to the ground and he laughed.

"Come on. We're losing the light and I wanted to be a couple leagues in before we have to make camp," Aria said. She hugged her sister, bade her farewell, and led the way up the winding, rough mountain path.

They had walked all afternoon well into the evening and the multiple groups of bandits that attacked made them even more weary than usual. They were footsore, cranky, and exhausted. They broke to make camp as the sun started to fall just below the treeline.

Anders had set-up the branches for makeshift tents and defensive wards, and was now tending to a wound Varric had sustained from a nastily coated blade in the most recent ambush they'd faced. Fenris was gathering wood for the cook fire in the surrounding forest and hunting pheasant and rabbits for their supper. Aria busied herself with gathering their armour and repairing the damage done.

The sun was below the horizon by the time the cook fire was started. Aria had completely immersed herself in her task, using the luminescent stone Varric had given her. She was oblivious to the world around her and began humming to herself as she worked a few links in Varric's undermail. Before long, the song had formed lyrics in her head and she began to sing.

_Taken away from my home  
Left in this strange land to roam  
Found fortune and blessings  
Amidst many a foe_

_Traveling lonely roads  
Adventures, loot, and gold  
My heart cries for more  
But none are so bold_

_Love has no place  
In a world governed apace  
Parrying, evading, and dueling  
Unforgiving, time's rate_

_Traveling lonely roads  
Adventures, loot, and gold  
Fate is most unkind  
In these stories to be told_

_Dragons, demons, and mages  
Tales across the ages  
Diaries, tomes, and fantasies  
Kept by silent sages_

_Traveling lonely roads  
Romance, treachery, and rogues  
Warriors' swords and mages' staffs  
Battling for lost souls_

_Wounded, weak, and weary  
Drained of will and clearly  
Fighting is all I know  
Beneath this sky so dreary_

Her voice trailed off as she went back to humming, fighting with a particularly recalcitrant link. She repaired it and moved to the next. A slight mist began, as though her song had called the actual dreariness of the sky into being.

"Is that the end?" Varric asked from beside her, looking up at the sky, no doubt attributing the soft rain's beginning to her musical incantation.

Aria jumped, startled from her song- and work-induced reverie. She looked up and realized that her party members all sat around her, having pulled up chunks of the wood Fenris cleaved for them to sit upon. She hadn't been aware that they were listening. With a mixture of mirth and playful dread, she recognized the storyteller gears turning in Varric's head.

"I guess it is," she answered Varric's query, returning to fixing the armour. She had grown accustomed to the awe-filled stares as of late, but the heat and slight hint of pain in one particular pair of green eyes was enough to bring a slight flush to her cheeks.

"Where'd you hear that?" Anders asked after a few moments had passed. He pulled the hood up on his robes as the mist grew heavier.

"She didn't," Fenris softly said from his perch beside Varric. "It's _her_ song."

"You wrote that?" Anders pressed, leaning closer to her, his eyes widening in appreciation.

"Technically? No. I sang it," Aria teased, finishing the armour and handing it to Varric. She smiled at Anders, who returned the gesture.

"I never took you for a bard, Hawke," Varric said, taking the armour and inspecting it. He set it down, apparently satisfied by his appreciative grin.

"I'm not," Aria replied. "It just felt right. Come on, that pheasant smells ready and I'm famished. Let's eat before that rain really starts to fall."

They all got up and moved closer to the fire, Fenris turning the spit a few more times before removing it from the rack over the flames. Varric cut the surprisingly large bird up and dispensed it between the four of them. Fenris passed a bottle of Danarius's fine wine around, doing well to contain his ire at sharing such finery with an apostate. Anders smiled incitefully as he took a drink from the bottle and handed it to Aria. She shook her head and wiped the rim before taking a long drink. When she handed the bottle to Fenris, he pointedly refused to wipe the bottle's rim. He gave her an odd smile and finished the bottle, licking his lips as he savored the taste. Aria blushed slightly and busied herself with finishing her meal.

As their bellies filled, Varric began a tale of a warrior in love with a slave girl belonging to his commanding noble. Fenris interjected his thoughts on the tale as it was told. Varric graciously accommodated the former slave's views and adjusted accordingly. Anders was surprisingly silent, his eyes darting between Fenris and her. Aria worried that he was plotting something, and she feared its fruition. The tale wound through scenes of battle, tender romance, betrayal, and redemption where it ended with the slave girl sacrificing herself for her warrior lover's life.

Anders stood and stretched once Varric's tale had ended. "Thank you for the bedtime entertainment, Varric," he said, casting a glare in Fenris's direction.

"You're most welcome, Blondie. I expect more tales of yours in return when we get back to Kirkwall," Varric replied, also standing and stretching.

"Draw for first watch?" Aria asked on a yawn before standing with them.

"Yes, I have the stones here," Varric said, producing four stones with numbers engraved into them from a small leather pouch at his waist. "Hawke, with as dangerous as this trek has been, I think it prudent that we double guard on watch," he continued as she took the stones from him.

"Agreed," Fenris chimed in, standing and walking over to the fire. He kicked it out, chuckling to himself when Anders shot him a sour look.

"If we do double guard, I'm _not_ with the elf," Anders spat, joining Varric and Aria.

"You'll go with whomever you draw," Aria barked, quickly deescalating the growing hostility. "One with two, three with four."

Aria put the stones back into the pouch and gave it to Varric. They each drew a stone. Aria and Fenris drew the first watch, Anders and Varric the second. Thankfully, the mage and fugitive would not be on guard together. Aria went to her makeshift tent to fetch her blanket and a book she'd acquired on the journey thus far. Anders was hot on her heels, which was exactly what she feared he would do.

"Are you sure you're going to be alright with him? Can you even trust him?" he whispered as he stepped into the small tent, his words pleading.

Aria sighed, folding the blanket around her shoulders and staring Anders squarely in the face. "By your own words, I shouldn't be alone with you either. But if I put you and Fenris together, you'll kill each other. I need both of you."

Anders moaned in frustration, running his fingers through his tawny hair. "I just…can't stand how he's been looking at you, especially tonight."

"That's what this all is really about?" Aria asked. "Well, I have news for all of you. I belong to no man. And any man who deigns to control me will find himself sorely disappointed, if not brutally dead."

"Aria," Anders pleaded, snatching her hand as she stormed past. "My feelings for you—"

"Don't waste your breath," Aria softly murmured, yanking her hand from his grasp, and refusing to look in his eyes.

They stood in silence for a moment before she stalked off into the woods at the edge of camp. She slid down the trunk of an enormous oak tree until she sat against it on the ground, drawing her knees up to serve as a pedestal upon which she could rest her book. She looked out over the camp, blatantly ignoring Anders' pleading stare from where he stood in front of his tent. Fenris took up a position directly across from her on the other side of camp. She took the small illuminating stone Varric and gifted her, shook it, and slid it along the page as she read her book.

As the night deepened, it grew increasingly cold. Much colder than any of them had anticipated. The drizzle that fell from the sky seeped straight to her bones. This was odd weather for the Free Marches. It hardly dropped below anything that could be considered warm.

A twig snapped to her right. She jumped up and drew her twin daggers, slashing her right-handed weapon down across the shadow that appeared next to her. The clang of metal on metal rent the still night air. It was difficult for her to see her attacker, with the clouds obscuring the blessed light of the moon. Her teeth chattered involuntarily with the cold, and the figure drew their locked blades downward to a neutral stance.

"Be still," the familiar deep voice sounded from the darkness. "It is only me." He stepped from behind the tree, coming into better view.

"Fenris! You scared the life out of me!" Aria hoarsely whispered, sheathing her daggers again. "Is it time?"

He sat next to her and handed her a flask that was surprisingly warm to the touch. "No, but I could hear your teeth chattering from clear across camp."

She groaned quietly. "I can't get warm to s-s-save my soul. I'm s-s-sorry."

"No need to apologize, Aria. Drink. It's a delicacy in Tevinter."

Aria took a tentative sip from the silver flask to test the liquid, then brought it back to her lips for a longer, heartier draught. It was sweet, rich, and unlike anything she had ever tasted. It warmed her belly deliciously and flooded that warmth through her blood.

"This is amazing!" she whispered, "What is it?"

He chuckled quietly. "White chocolate cocoa, goat's milk, cinnamon, and imperial brandy," he replied, leaning close enough that their shoulders and hips touched.

"Mmm. I'm going to have to buy some when we return to Kirkwall. How did you keep it warm?"

"Would you like me to show you?" he softly asked, adjusting the blanket around her shoulders, his eyes holding a playful light.

"Certainly," she replied, shivering again.

Fenris drew an arm around her shoulders, pulling her against him.

"Fenris, I—"

"I'm not going to harm you, Aria," he quietly cut her off, pulling her toward him again so that both of his arms surrounded her. "Relax."

She closed her eyes. His nearness, his feral, spicy, and heady scent slammed into her senses. She felt dizzy for a moment—and then, warmth flooded through her, from her toes to her nose. She sighed and found her own arms encircling his waist. He nuzzled her hair and she responded by curling closer, her head resting on his chest.

"Open your eyes and look at me," he whispered after a few minutes had passed, smoothing his hands down her back.

She complied and gasped at the elf before her. His lyrium tattoos were glowing silvery bluish-white, the obvious source of his warmth. He looked down into her eyes, his expression awash with his vulnerability.

"You are…beautiful," Aria breathed, reaching up to touch his face.

He abruptly pulled away, gently pushing her so that she sat upright against the tree again. He stood, the silver flask in his hands once more. He set his lyrium brands to glowing even brighter, then carefully handed the flask back to her.

"We have few hours left of watch. This should keep you warm," he softly, distantly stated, averting his eyes as she accepted the flask.

"Thank you. You are most kind," she replied, her voice breaking slightly as she reeled from his abrupt demeanor changes.

"No, my lady. Thank you," he murmured as he turned to walk away, not sure if she heard him or not. He walked back to his post across camp, masterfully keeping to the shadows so he would not be seen.

She was a puzzle to him. Cunning, skilled in many areas, and a master of two worlds. She lived in acute poverty but had the air and presence of nobility. Not the spoiled, haughty, holier-than-thou type of nobility but rather the type that exuded confidence, temperance, and quiet power. She was an assassin, of that he was absolutely sure and yet, she was a great humanitarian. She existed in purgatory between night and day, black and white, good and evil. She had the better qualities of both and still managed not to compromise them.

Aria had called him beautiful, despite the monstrosity he was. He had shown her the beast within, the demon grafted to his very skin, and rather than run away screaming as he wished she would have, she stood in awe of him. Maker bless her, she reacted the wrong way to everything. But, at the same time, it was the correct way. At least, it was what he wanted her to think of him. He had never even dared to dream that any woman could look past his flaws, his—curse—and still be enamored with him.

He sat down across camp from her, his eyes easily finding her even in the dark. She'd gone back to reading, the soft blue light from the luminescent stone she carried a muted, welcoming beacon in the night. He could just see her face, pale and wraithlike in the soft light. Her expression looked slightly vexed, her brows knitting together just enough to give the hint of internal disquiet.

After quite some time had passed, she lifted the flask to her lips. He watched as she drank a few swallows from the flask, a slight smile playing on her lips. She silently closed the book and stuffed the stone in the satchel at her hip, making her visible no more.

Fenris heaved a quiet sigh. For what good her statement had done him, he knew that she was somehow involved with the mage. The thought brought bile to his throat. To think of that heathen's hands on her, or anyone like her, made his blood boil.

He'd inquired about the nature of her relationship with the healer, seeking his information from the loose-lipped dwarf, the guard-captain, and her sweet sister. Bethany had said that Anders had deep feelings for her, but denied himself and Aria the pleasure of acting upon them. It was, in his opinion, the smartest thing the mage had ever done.

Further than that, Aria seemed to have rejected him, though not willingly. Varric had said the two used to be very close a short time ago, practically joined at the hip—and then something happened. What exactly, no one could say for sure, but Aria had grown cold towards the mage and he had often asked of her forgiveness. Fenris wondered just what Anders had done to turn her so.

The dwarf almost sneaked up on him, but he heard the soft snap of a twig just to his left about twenty yards away that alerted him to the other's presence. Fenris turned and smiled as Varric approached, catching the gleam of a returning smile from the dwarf's teeth.

"You are relieved, messere," Varric quietly said, holding out his hand to help the elf to his feet.

Fenris accepted and nimbly sprang up. "I stand relieved," he replied, bowing slightly and patting the dwarf on the shoulder before walking back into camp.

He sat near the extinguished coals of the fire, feeble warmth still radiating from them even in the dead of night. His elven ears perked as he eavesdropped the conversation happening between Aria and Anders.

"Anything I need to know?" Anders softly said as he tightened Aria's blanket around her shoulders.

"It's been quiet," she replied, refusing to look him in the eyes. He noticed the silver flask she gripped in both hands, keeping her fingers warm.

"Is that Fenris's?" he asked, his voice carefully neutral.

"He gave it to me to keep me warm. It's very cold tonight; unusual weather for the Marches," Aria defensively answered him, allowing him to pull her to her feet.

He brought her closer than was really necessary and she fought the swoon that began to steal over her. She couldn't take the stormy sea her vessel was traveling this night. Ardor then rejection. Hot then cold. They were making her neck ache with their rapid mood swings.

"All you need have done is ask and I could have—"

"You were sleeping. I wasn't going to wake you for that," she quickly replied, gently pushing away from him. He caught her hand on his chest and she could feel the pronounced, slow thud of his heart beneath her palm. Her breath hitched in her throat.

Warmth flooded through her, much the same way it had when Fenris had held her. She delicately removed her hand from his and ducked her head, turning away from him. He sighed and watched her go, not sure what to say.

When she reached the camp, she saw Fenris sitting by the hastily constructed fire pit.

"Go to sleep, Fenris," she gently said, her voice sweet and soft. "We've a long way to go in the morning."

"I just wanted to make sure you had laid to rest first," he congenially replied, swiftly and lithely getting to his feet.

"Thank you. I'm all right," Aria kindly replied, turning for her tent.

"Are you?" Fenris asked, his voice bearing a note of reluctant challenge.

She looked back over her shoulder at him, smiling reassuringly, though there was a lingering sadness in her eyes. "I'm fine, thank you. Good night, Fenris."

"Good night, Aria," he said, watching her disappear beneath the heavy evergreen branch that served as her tent's flap.


	13. Chapter TWELVE

**Chapter Twelve**

Sleep evaded her for most of the remaining night. She was up just as the first telltale signs of dawn began to lighten the eastern horizon. She stayed in her tent as she listened to her companions start the fire again, swathed in her blankets and fingering Flemeth's heavy locket where it hung on her neck.

Varric departed to fetch some water from the nearby creek to fill their water flagons and to cook with. Anders had gone to fetch more wood, unable to stand being around the mage-hating elf. Fenris was stoking the cook fire to a roaring, albeit tiny, inferno in the shallow pit.

It was when Fenris was silent that Aria emerged from her tent. She stretched, feeling a number of vertebrae in her back pop at the action. Fenris sat facing her tent, next to the fire. He watched her, his intense, verdant gaze curious. She offered him a smile and produced a cream from her satchel, dispensing a small dollop on her fingertip. He watched as she used it to brush her teeth.

"What are you doing?" he asked when she turned her back to spit the foam out.

"Have you ever noticed the brightness of Kirkwallers' teeth?" Aria asked, wiping the remainder of the foam from her lips.

"I—had not, until you mention it now," Fenris honestly replied.

"They take powdered seashells, mint extract, and crushed salt and make a paste. Then they rub it on their teeth and gums," she said, sitting across from him. "Makes your teeth last longer and makes your breath quite pleasant."

"Would you mind if I tried it?" he asked, presenting her with the tip of his index finger.

Aria smiled, stood, and dispensed a dollop on it. He looked at her dubiously, one eye hidden beneath the reckless fringe of his silver hair, then popped it into his mouth. He mimicked her actions and after a couple minutes, turned and spat it out. She watched as he ran his tongue over his teeth appreciatively.

"That feels—rather refreshing," he said, smiling at her.

"It's good for you, too," Aria said. "If you'd like, I can have Bethany make some for you."

"I would indeed," Fenris congenially replied.

They sat for a few moments, just watching each other. Fenris seemed almost jovial this morning; as though he was content. The intensity of his gaze did not diminish, however, and she recognized, with discomfort, that she was quite loathe to look away.

"Thank you for the drink last night," Aria said after a moment of awkward silence.

"You needn't. It was my pleasure," he quickly said. "I was thinking."

"Hmm? About?"

"About that song you sang. Or rather, the fact that you sing."

Aria laughed lightly. "And? I hope it wasn't too terrible. I'm a bit out of practice. It's been…a long time."

"On the contrary, you have a lovely voice." She blushed but did not reply. "It is curious," he continued, the light in his vibrant, dark green eyes playful.

"Do elaborate," she laughingly said, leaning forward, her elbows on her knees.

"Your name is a play on words, and an unusually accurate one," Fenris said.

"I'm not sure I understand," Aria replied.

"Aria Hawke. An aria is a part of an opera, usually written to showcase the talent of a soprano songstress. I was privy to many a performance with my former master. And Hawke is, simply put, a bird. So, Aria Hawke, in literal translation, is Song Bird."

"But the hawk is a bird of prey, so this is a song bird who'll rip your guts out with her talons. At least she'll sing a pretty song as she does it," Varric said from behind them, his voice lilting and teasing.

"There is that, yes," Fenris chuckled, his voice velvet over crushed diamonds.

"Thank you for that oh-so-insightful clarification, Varric," Aria quipped, her tawny eyes playful.

"It is a service I am happy to render, madam," Varric chivalrously replied, bowing deeply. "Has the Song Bird a ditty to grace us with whilst I prepare breakfast?"

Aria threw a handful of dirt at him.

"I fancy not, then," Varric chuckled, setting their water vessels down and nestling the iron pot full of water into the coals.

"Fancy what?" Anders asked as he entered their campsite, his arms laden with the dead wood he'd gathered from the surrounding forest.

"He wants me to sing again," Aria answered, inclining her head as he inclined his in greeting.

"You should," Anders said, offering her a kind, happy smile.

"I'm not going to burst into song about every little thing. Breakfast is hardly something to sing about," Aria deflected, mirth bubbling in her throat and spicing her words.

"I staunchly disagree," Varric said. "It's definitely something to sing about."

"Oh just make the food. I'm going to go scout the trail ahead," Aria deflected, standing and checking her daggers in their sheaths on her back.

"Don't be too long," Varric replied. "Grub will be ready before you know it."

Aria waved his words off and left them, grateful for being alone. She made her way through the forest to the well-worn trail and headed up the mountainside. She read the tracks, finding little human or elf foot traffic. She did find plenty of deer, mountain goat, hare, and wolf tracks. She also found the scat of a mountain lion that was fresh—it looked and smelled as though it was only left the night previous.

The path divided into a fork about half a mile from where their camp lay. She scouted each path for another half mile each, finding the one that wound higher up the mountain to be heavy with elven tracks. They were close.

Happy with her discovery, she raced back to camp.

"We were going to come looking in a couple more minutes," Varric said as she jogged into camp.

The tents Anders had fashioned for them were gone, returned to their previous forested state. The cook fire had been extinguished and next to it, a large clay bowl sat on a hot rock. It was full of gruel and next to it lay a slab of the pheasant meat from the night previous. Fenris had gone into the woods, telling Varric and Anders he would return shortly. Anders sat next to the extinguished fire, polishing his mage staff.

She ate quickly and true to his word, Fenris returned shortly before she finished. She cleaned the dish in the ash of the fire and gave it to Varric to carry. Then, they were on their way. They followed the path Aria had scouted and within a few hours of brisk travel, they reached the edge of the Dalish camp. Two guards, a male and a female elf with impressive bows on their backs, stood watch on the path, which was well defended by rock faces on either side that stretched a good thirty feet above them.

"Hold, shemlen!" the male guard hollered as the travelers came into view. "Your kind are not welcome among the Dalish!"

Aria took the amulet from around her neck, garnering curious stares from her companions. She held it up in the sunlight for the elves to see before speaking. "I was given an amulet for someone named Marethari," she simply said.

"How do you know that name?" the male elf accusingly spat, drawing his bow, an arrow already nocked.

"Wait!" the female elven guard cried, staying his bow with a firm touch on his forearm. "This is the one the Keeper spoke of."

"A shemlen?" the male said, turning to the female in disbelief. "I thought she'd be an elf."

"Enter the camp," the woman said, turning and opening an arm from her side. "Keeper Marethari has been waiting for you."

As they proceeded past the guards, the man said, "Cause trouble, and you'll meet our blades, stranger."

Fenris chuckled low in his throat at this and Aria shot him a warning glare. He shrugged in response and they continued through the camp. The Dales were not a friendly folk. They were wild, undoubtedly farther from human than any of the city-dwelling elves. They were free, and they bowed to no one but nature.

Aria figured the elf with the least amount of malice in her eyes was the one she wanted to talk to. She strode up to the elderly woman, whose face was adorned with cheery yellow tattoos in whimsical, beautiful designs on her face.

"Marethari?" Aria asked. "I was told to bring you this amulet."

The elven matriarch smiled kindly, her feral eyes taking in the amulet with relief and caution. She held out her hand and Aria was all too happy to be free of the dreadful thing.

"Andaran atish'an, travelers," the woman said as she held the amulet. "I am Keeper Marethari," she continued, her eyes taking in each one of them and pausing for a moment on Aria. "Let me look at you," she said, gently touching Aria's cheek. "There is a light in your heart, human. Don't let it go out. You will need it. Tell me how this burden fell to you, child."

Aria was slightly unnerved by the Keeper's words. Her voice shook a little as she responded, "This amulet's owner rescued my family from the Blight. In return, I agreed to bring it to you."

"I honor you for coming to me, but I'm afraid your part in this is not done yet," she said, her voice cool and smooth as a mountain stream. Her eyes held sadness as she continued, "The amulet must be taken to an altar at the top of the mountain, and given a Dalish rite for the departed. Then, return the amulet to me. Do this, and your debt will be repaid."

Aria took the amulet and looked over it, then turned her questioning gaze back to the Keeper. "Are you…going to teach me this rite for the departed?"

"I will send my First with you," Keeper Marethari said, "She will see to it the ritual is done and when it is complete, I must ask that you take her with you when you go."

"Uh-oh," Varric murmured under his breath.

" Who is your First?"Aria queried, "First of what?"

"Your people would call her my apprentice or heir," the Keeper explained. "Merrill would have taken my place as Keeper. But she has chosen a new path. Please, guide her safely from here."

"This is…an odd request," Aria stated plainly. "I thought the Dalish stay together."

"You know of the people?" Keeper Marethari asked, her brows slightly elevating in surprise.

"Very little," Aria honestly said.

"It is her wish and I must grant it," The Keeper replied, a deep sorrow in her features at the words. "You'll find Merrill waiting for you on the trail just up the mountain. Dareth shiral."

Having obviously been dismissed by the elder elf, Aria walked through the camp towards the path that led up the mountain.

"Oh hey! Nature! I've heard about this," Varric sarcastically said as he narrowly evaded stepping in a fresh pile of deer excrement. "Thought it was just a rumor."

Anders burst into a fit of laughter. Fenris's mouth quirked slightly. Aria joined Anders in laughing.

"Oh Varric, what would I do without you?" Aria laughed.

"You wouldn't be anywhere near as popular. Duh," Varric dead-panned.

"Ouch," Aria said, feigning a dagger to the heart. Anders and Varric chuckled. Fenris…did not find it so funny.

"Seems pretty strange of a Keeper to want to cut her apprentice free," Anders said after they'd walked for a few more minutes.

"What other path could she choose, I wonder?" Aria added.

"Maybe she fell in love with a handsome dwarf and wants to elope," Varric chimed in.

"And then he rejects her because he can't bear cheating on his crossbow," Anders retorted.

"That, Blondie, is why I'm the storyteller and you are not," Varric laughed.

They rounded a bend and saw the hunched figure of an elf on the path. There was a ball of twinkling light in her palm and strange, ethereal voices coming from it. She rounded on them as soon as she heard their approach, the light disappearing with the closing of her hand.

She was lithe, delicate, and very pretty. Just like most of the elves Aria had seen. Her hair was a lovely reddish brown, kept rather short, with beaded streams at odd intervals. Her eyes were quite close in color to Fenris's. Her green frock was adorned with intricately woven designs and she carried an ornate staff.

"Oh! I didn't hear," she gushed as soon as they came up. "You must be the one the Keeper told me about. Aneth era. I'm so sorry. I didn't ask your name. Unless…it's not rude to ask a human their name is it? I'm Merrill. Which you probably knew already. I'm rambling, sorry."

Aria was impressed with how quickly the little imp spoke. She seemed easily distracted but eager to please. Still, Aria was intrigued by the ball of light.

"Did you hear that strange noise?" she pointedly asked.

"Oh…I didn't hear anything."

Aria made a mental note to keep an eye on this one, but decided to drop the subject for now. "Why are you leaving the Dalish for Kirkwall?" Aria asked, changing gears.

"Here we go. On with the interrogation phase," Varric sighed.

"She got you too?" Anders quipped.

"I like to know who I'm working with. It's good for keeping your skin on your back and your innards from becoming outards," Aria sniped to the peanut gallery.

"Innards from becoming outards… I'm so using that," Varric said, shaking his head.

"I'm confused," Merrill simply stated, regarding them all with the most dear look of befuddlement.

"Nothing," Aria chuckled. "Why are you leaving the Dalish?"

Merrill became instantly defensive, her eyes meeting Aria's sharply and her voice shooting up a bit. "I have to. Let's leave it at that for now, all right?"

"Easy, I'm not going for confrontation. Just curious," Aria placatingly replied. "And you'll have to work harder than that to offend me. My name's Aria. Aria Hawke. The dwarf here is Varric, that's Anders, and the elf is Fenris."

"Thank you. I'm afraid I'm not very experienced with your kind. The Keeper said you came from Ferelden. I spent most of my life there. We only came north a few years ago. Have you been in the Free Marches long? Do you like it here?"

Aria was much intrigued by this character before her. Merrill gave the impression of being surprisingly bright but also very dim. She smiled benignly and looked around her before replying.

"I miss the cold. And the dirt. Kirkwall's not brown enough for me. But hey, no darkspawn at every turn!" Aria quipped.

"Ferelden wasn't that brown! The dirt and muck gave it character!" Merrill said, then as a swift afterthought, "Oh, you were joking. Right. We should go. Your task is for Asha'bellanar. It's not wise to make her wait."

"Yes, well, I imagine if it's the same person I'm thinking of, her patience has already been sorely tested. Let's get this over with," Aria replied on a sigh, checking her daggers.

They followed Merrill up the rugged, awkward, deep path, clambering over boulders and climbing through the rough, plentiful foliage. They reached a small plateau which was adorned with ancient looking burial mounds.

Just as Varric was starting to make some snide comment about nature again, the earth began to quiver beneath their feet. Aria had hardly drawn her daggers before a nightmarish squad of reanimated corpses and skeletons sprang from the ground, showering them all with putrid earth. They attacked and the small group of travelers sprang into action.

Luckily enough, they were easy to fell. A couple of well placed hits with a sword and they shattered, their brittle bones and fetid flesh turning to dust. Aria had hardly broken a sweat before the little battle was finished. The biggest thing she'd garnered from the battle was something that she had already suspected: Merrill was a practitioner of magic.

"The Keeper didn't mention you were a mage," Aria cautiously stated, carefully gauging Anders's and Fenris's reactions to the question. Anders was nonplussed. Fenris looked as though he'd stepped in something particularly foul.

"I imagine it's difficult to give away something nobody wants," Fenris growled, keeping his enormous longsword drawn and both hands on the hilt.

Merrill shot him a venomous look before turning back to Aria. "All Keepers know a bit of old magic," she said, sounding as though relaying a well-known children's tale to a complete idiot. "The stories tell us that all elvhen once had the gift, but like so many things, it was lost. It's a Keeper's job to remember, to restore what we can."

"Can't demons possess Dalish mages?" Aria asked, ignoring the glare Anders shot at her.

"It can happen," Merrill hastily hedged, making Aria instantly nervous. "And when it does, the clan must hunt and kill their own Keeper."

Aria chuckled and clapped a hand on the apprentice's shoulder. "Keep turning skeletons into toads for us."

Merrill's face was blank for a moment, no doubt confused again. "But I never—Right, not literally. Happy to help," she said, blush staining her fair cheeks.

"You look like you've fought before," Aria said, following as Merrill started climbing the path again.

"I've done a little fighting before, but it was always alone," the Dalish almost sadly replied. "I'll try not to hit anyone," she quickly added, her earnestness endearing. "On our side, I mean. I'm babbling. Let's go."

Aria and Varric chuckled together and kept following their elven guide. They reached another small plateau and were greeted, none too appreciatively, by a Dalish hunter. He regarded Merrill with open contempt.

"So the Keeper finally found someone to take you away from here," he sneered at her, his tawny eyes glinting unchecked malice.

"Yes," Merrill sharply replied, lifting her chin in defiance.

The Dalish hunter looked to Aria then. "Then finish your task quickly, human. We cannot be rid of this one too soon." He bounded lightly down the path from whence they'd just come, shooting a venomous glare at Merrill over his shoulder before he disappeared from view.

"Hmm. I'm sensing a story here," Varric smoothly said, his eyes on Merrill.

Merrill rounded on him, her earlier defensiveness piqued. "I have made my choice. And I will save our clan, whatever they think," she said, pointedly glaring at where the other Dalish had previously disappeared down the path.

"What's going on here, Merrill?" Aria asked, her own nerves singing with anxiety. This was not at all what she had expected would happen when she came here.

"Nothing," Merrill said, a little too quickly and her voice a little too squeaky. "Just ignorance. We should go."

Fenris sighed heavily and Anders shook his head. Aria and Varric exchanged apprehensive glances before following after the elven mage again. The next plateau they reached was blocked by a landslide. Aria inspected it, but found no prudent course to further their ascent. Merrill informed her that there was a cave up ahead that would take them where they needed to go.

"A cave… That's not ominous at all, no no," Varric groused as they reached the cave's mouth.

"I'm sorry," Merrill said, standing next to Aria as they contemplated the entrance. "You're not really seeing the Dalish at their best. We're good people that look out for each other. Just not today, apparently."

Aria rolled her eyes. "But the Dalish are delightful!" she said, her voice sickly sweet. "I was just thinking of inviting the whole clan over for tea!"

Merrill grinned widely at her, her green eyes sparkling. "I'm sure they'd accept an—Oh. Right. Sarcasm," she said, her mirth falling. "Even if my people don't appreciate my efforts, I must see this through. Let's go. Asha'bellanar isn't known for her patience."

"You keep saying that and it really doesn't help allay my concerns," Aria groaned, following the elf into the cavern.

Inside, a bit of sunlight lanced through a hole in the cave's ceiling. Before they could get too far, however, they were attacked by enormous cave spiders that were sure to give Aria nightmares for weeks. Sure, there had been huge spiders near Lothering in the Korcari Wilds, but it didn't mean she enjoyed meeting them.

Once they'd dispatched the arachnids, they ventured farther in. A heady wind blew through the cave and Aria could see sky through the cavern wall. They hadn't reached the cave exit yet when yet another attack ensued.

This time, besides more spiders of course, some long-forgotten spirits attacked. Their breath was foul. Their eyes glowed an unnerving blood red and their bodies were hard and twisted. She plunged her dagger through one's eye socket and it disappeared in a puff of noxious smoke.

Knowing that caves like this often harboured forgotten treasure, she took a quick look around. Aria found an ancient chest whose locking mechanism had long since rusted away. She found some little healing vials and some ancient looking gloves, but nothing more of use.

Merrill was impatiently tapping her foot next to the hole in the cavern wall as Aria finished pillaging.

"Asha'bellanar can wait five more minutes. I'm sure it won't kill her," Aria said as she followed the elf through to the other side.

"I think being turned into a toad will be the least of your problems," Anders chuckled, sidling up next to her. Their shoulders bumped amiably as they navigated the narrow cavern.

"Story of my life," Aria laughed.

"I'm beginning to see," he said, and their gazes met fleetingly.

She felt nervous again with the heat of his soft, dark gaze and they continued out into the open. A refreshing wind washed away the dank, sour smell of the cavern and they strode out onto a high cliff that overlooked the rest of the mountain range. It was breathtaking and made Aria realize just how small she really was in the grand scheme of things.

At the only path leading along the cliff, an ominous, magical barrier sizzled and hummed before them. Aria scouted around it while Anders and Merrill examined the barrier itself. As Aria returned to the group, Merrill spoke up.

"I can open the way forward. One moment," she said, producing a small, wickedly-edged knife and cutting her palm open. She said some eerie incantation in which her voice took on a sinister, ethereal quality—like a voice from another world joined hers, its timbre much deeper and malevolent.

The barrier disappeared with a sickening "crack!" and the path was clear.

"Blood magic?" Fenris growled, though it was more a statement than a question. "Foolish. Very foolish."

"Yes, it was blood magic, but I know what I'm doing," Merrill snapped at him, sounding as though she was trying to convince herself above anyone else. "The spirit helped us, didn't it?"

Aria groaned. "Sure, demons are very helpful…right up until they take your mind and turn you into a monster."

Merrill rounded on her, her green eyes too large for her face as she grew defensive again. "Well, yes. But that won't happen. I know how to defend myself. Be careful up ahead," she said, stepping through the path where the barrier had existed.

They followed her down the path, which led to another burial ground. Strange, large stones littered the place and an unsettling energy coursed through the very air. The hair on the back of Aria's neck stood up and she snapped her wrists, whirling her daggers in apprehension.

"Restless spirits prowl the heights," Merrill said as they entered the ancient burial ground. "In the days of Arlathan, the elders came here to sleep," she explained, her fingers lightly tracing along the runes carved into the stones in an almost loving fashion, "Uthenera. The endless dream, they called it. But they don't sleep peacefully anymore."

As if her words were the secret code that needed to be uttered, several spirits appeared in solid form. They were much like the ones the group had encountered in the cave, except these were stronger and filled with even more malice, if it was even possible.

Aria snapped into action, her patience at its end. She wanted this bloody excursion over with. She was hot, tired, cranky, and in need of a bath. Silly as it was, Aria was very fond of cleanliness. She hated having the dust and odor of battle clinging to her.

A rather large entity stood near a large stone altar. Aria launched herself at it, instinct driving her to take on the most formidable foe. Its mouth widened in a horrific bloodlust grin, its rotten teeth dripping with the most noxious, disgusting green slime. Its cold eyes glared at her like blood-filled lanterns. She sidestepped the swipe it made with its rusted, black blade and whirled in an arc, driving both her blades into its back then quickly retreating.

It chased her and she blocked the murderous blows it rained down on her with its demonic blade. She parried and evaded, moving like a dancer engaged in a highly advanced number with the spirit. She drove and ducked, striking deep blows at its core, then whirling again to do the same to its back. It struck a couple of blows against the hard leather of her armour, gouging through in one spot on her abdomen. Luckily, she was moving away as it happened and the wound was but a shallow scratch. She grew enraged and unleashed a bevy of swift, devastating attacks.

Finally, it fell to its skeletal knees and she slashed down with all her strength, rending its head from its body and sending it crashing forward onto the ground. The matter within dispersed in a cloud of putrid smoke, leaving the rotted armour and robes behind, flat and lifeless on the ground.

As she finished, she looked up and saw her companions watching. She realized her heels rested just at the edge of the precipice by the altar. Before vertigo could steal her sense, she took a few steps forward, then looked back over the edge. She shivered. Heights had never been her favorite thing in the world.

"Can we _please_ get this shit over with now?" she agitatedly asked, sheathing her daggers and looking at the altar.

"Y-y-yes. Let's," Merrill stammered, taking the amulet that Aria proffered. "Hahren na melana sahlin," she said, her voice smooth and the foreign tongue beautiful. She looked to the sky and continued, "Emm ir abelas souver'inan isala hamin vherran him dor'felas." She placed the amulet on the altar then. "In uthenera na revas."

The amulet began to glow, then emitted a shower of rays of every color imaginable. The rays of light converged and coalesced into the form of the woman Aria had met as the darkspawn ravaged Lothering. She was a tall, regal old woman. Her amber eyes spoke of wisdom far beyond the beautiful but old visage could possibly know. Her pewter hair swirled together on the sides of her head forming two great horns and two smaller tines tipped in scarlet. The rest fell down her back in shimmering, dark silver waves.

"Aaaah, and here we are!" the Witch of the Wilds said, her regal, pewter head turning to appraise the people before her, her voice pleased.

"A witch!" Fenris shouted, drawing his blade again in alarm.

"It's all right, Fenris!" Merrill said, staying his hand. "She means us no harm. Andaran atish'an, Asha'bellanar," she continued, striding forward and kneeling before Flemeth.

"One of the people, I see, so young and bright. Do you know who I am beyond that title?"

Merrill did not look up as she said, "I know only a little."

"Then stand," Flemeth graciously said, "The people bend their knee too quickly." Her gaze leveled on Aria. "How refreshing to see someone who keeps their end of a bargain. I half-expected my amulet to end up in a merchant's pocket!"

Aria was a little stung by the lack of faith. "I agreed to deliver the amulet, though you could have told me you were inside it."

Flemeth's lips turned up slightly at the corners, her bright, amber eyes amused. "Just a piece. A small piece, but it was all I needed. A bit of security, should the inevitable occur. And if I know my Morrigan, it already has."

"You are no simple witch," Fenris said then, his expression one of careful awe.

"Figured that out yourself, did you?" Flemeth chuckled sarcastically.

"I have seen powerful mages, spirits, and abominations. But you are none of those things. What are you?" he asked, his tone taking on an accusatory note.

"Such a curious lad," Flemeth venomously drawled, her voice low and seductive. "The chains are broken, but are you truly free?"

Fenris seemed impressed. "You see a great deal."

"I am a fly in the ointment. I am a whisper in the shadows. I am also an old, old woman. More than that, you need not know," she said, her gaze appraising him further. He lifted his chin defiantly.

"Should I know who Morrigan is?" Aria asked, eager to get this whole meeting over with.

"She is a girl who thinks she knows what's what better than me or anyone. Ha ha! As I raised her to be. I could not expect less."

"I am not sure whether she's your daughter or enemy," Aria cautiously ventured.

"Neither is she," Flemeth slyly replied.

"You should have told me what I would face," Aria boldly stated, not too happy about a spirit almost knocking her off a cliff to a grisly death.

"Did I trick you?" Flemeth silkily said, the sinister undertone not going unnoticed by Aria, "I asked you to bring the amulet and you did. If I thought it such an easy task, I might have asked anyone. But you have succeeded where others would not."

"You have plans, I take it?" Aria asked, her eyes on Flemeth's.

The witch smiled slowly, almost sadly. "Destiny awaits us both, dear girl. We have much to do. But before I go, a word of advice?"

Aria nodded tersely. Flemeth continued as though her permission didn't matter.

"We stand upon a precipice of change. The world fears the inevitable plummet into the abyss. Watch for that moment, and when it comes, do not hesitate to leap. It is only when you fall that you learn you can fly," she cryptically said, the light in her eyes almost merry.

"What should I do?" Aria asked, slightly confused. Was she being literal or figurative?

"Do as I do," Flemeth barked, laughing as she continued, "Become a dragon!" She grew instantly serious and mocking as she said, "You could never be a dragon." The witch turned to Merrill, her expression almost motherly. "As for you child, step carefully. No path is darker than when your eyes are shut."

"Ma serannas, Asha'bellanar," Merrill said, bowing.

"Now the time has come for me to leave. You have my thanks—and my sympathy."

They watched as she glowed again and her form shifted into that of a great dragon. She flew away over the mountains and a chill ran through Aria. The witch's warning could not be taken lightly. But she could not yet see how the world was so doomed. The Blight had been defeated. Where then, was the threat?

They made good time heading back to camp, mostly silent as they all considered their own thoughts. Aria was most surprised that Anders had said nothing to the witch. She had figured out of all of them, he would be most eager to engage her in conversation. She was very old and knew more than any being alive.

Anders stopped her after he saw blood seeping down her abdomen, over her hip, and down her thigh. The party stopped while he tended her, his expression relieved when she removed the thick leather plate and allowed him to look at the wound. She blushed at the scrutiny in both his and Fenris's gaze. Her torso was covered in naught but a thin camisole and her brassiere, leaving her quite open for perusal. Anders tenderly lifted the shredded, blood-soaked part of her camisole and murmured something arcane, his hand smoothing almost erotically over her abdomen. She could feel the wound close with a hot, tingling sensation and there was a dull ache that seared her lower abdomen.

"You were lucky," he said as he helped her put her armour back on.

"Hawke makes her own luck," Varric chuckled, keeping his gaze averted from the other rogue.

"She was reckless," Fenris growled haughtily. "If she hadn't stricken him down when she did, she would have either been pushed off the cliff or disemboweled."

Aria turned to say something, but Anders cut in, his tone incensed and his dark eyes cold as black diamonds.

"Any warrior faces the same plight every time they decide to engage blades," he snapped. "I've no doubt she's every bit as skilled as you, if not more so."

"I wasn't insulting her skill," Fenris coolly stated, his brow arching in amusement. "I simply said she was reckless. That she still lives is testament to that skill. But one day," he said, his gaze going to Aria, "you may not be able to jump headlong into the fray and come out alive."

Aria looked between both Anders and Fenris for a moment, plucking at the lacing in her armour to tighten it. They both looked expectantly back at her; Anders for justification, Fenris in amusement.

"We're all alive. Let's just go home. I'm done with all of this," Aria finally said, twirling her dagger over her head in a gesture that encompassed the entire area.

It took much less time to reach the camp than it had to get to the altar. Aria was thankful for this and more than eager to get back to Kirkwall. She wanted to put this place far, far behind her. As they strode into the camp, the glares Merrill garnered set Aria's teeth on edge. She didn't want any trouble—all she had wanted to do was pay her debt and leave. Getting dragged into this was a thorn in her side.

"Ma serannas, child. Your debt is paid in full," Keeper Marethari said as Aria gladly gave her the amulet. She turned to Merrill, her golden eyes pained. "It isn't too late to change your mind, da'len."

Merrill bowed, her eyes cold and distant. "Dareth shiral, Keeper," she said flatly, turning to Aria. "I'm ready. Let's depart."

Aria bowed to the Keeper and followed Merrill out of the camp, wondering exactly what she had just gotten herself into. Out of the frying pan, into the fire, Mother always said. She thought she finally understood the old adage.

They traveled the rest of the afternoon and through the night, reaching Kirkwall as the light of dawn touched the twin statues in the harbour. The travelers escorted Merrill to the elven alienage near the docks on the other side of Lowtown.

Merrill talked to an elven merchant about housing and procured a disused little hovel for herself. Aria waited while the transaction was completed, noting the excitement that raced through the alienage at having a true Dalish First among them.

Finally, Merrill stepped back into the alienage square where Aria, Anders, Fenris, and Varric waited, seeing through their obligation to the Keeper.

"Elgar'nan," Merrill softly whispered as she came back to where the group of vagabonds stood. "Is this…is this really where the elves live?"

"This is it," Fenris dryly stated, his brooding demeanor back in full force.

"Not the prettiest part of Kirkwall, but it doesn't have a view of the giant chains. Take what you can get," Varric comically added.

Merrill took in the rest of the alienage, noting the inhabitants and how they gawked at her. "I didn't think it would be so…so… I've never seen so many people in one place before. It seems so lonely."

"Try to think of it as…yet another adventure," Aria smoothly said, curling an arm around the elf's shoulders. "You have a lot to give your peers. I wager your council will be much appreciated."

"Some adventurer I am," Merrill replied. "Barely set out and I'm already daunted. Thank you for everything. For all your help. Will you come visit me? Not now, of course. But maybe later? I could use a friend."

The question stung Aria and she felt the elf's loneliness more profoundly than she had at first realized. "Of course. But only because you used that 'you kicked my puppy' voice," Aria gently stated, putting a casual distance between herself and the elf. She meant it. She felt she had a friend in Merrill.

"Thank you. Oh! I'm thanking you too much, aren't I? I mean it though," the Dalish First said, walking back towards her hovel.

Aria watched her go, making sure she was safely creating her own little nesting place before she ventured away from the alienage. Anders, Varric, and Fenris followed, Fenris's glare alerting her, wearily, to his staunch disapproval at having helped a mage. Aria vowed to herself that she'd make it up to him later. But for now, she wanted to go home, take a long hot bath, and sleep. Tomorrow was yet another day and she didn't exactly look forward to it.


	14. Chapter THIRTEEN

**Chapter Thirteen**

When she returned home that afternoon, Bethany engulfed her in a hug at the door. Her mother and Gamlen were not present. She was thankful that the weasel wasn't there, but slightly aggrieved that her mother was not. Bethany had a bath prepared in no time, thanks to her magic, and Aria gratefully slipped into the thick foam and hot water. Bethany sat next to the tub while her sister bathed.

"So it went all right then?" Bethany asked once Aria had relayed the adventure's outcomes.

"Yes," Aria sighed gratefully. "Except I fear I may have made an enemy of Fenris, and Anders is becoming far more complicated."

"Fenris was angry that you helped a mage," Bethany stated.

"In short, yes. He was intrigued by Flemeth though."

"Intrigued? You mean he didn't spit scathing insults at her and tell her she should be bound and gagged?"

Aria chuckled throatily at this. "He didn't quite know what to think of her. He wasn't afraid, nor was he outright angry. Well, about Flemeth anyway. Merrill, the elf mage, used blood magic. I think that makes her 'most depraved' number one in his book."

Bethany shook her head sadly. "A blood mage? In the alienage? That's wise."

Her sarcasm was quite evident. "I know, but what could I do? You'll like her, actually. She's kind of awkward and flighty, in an endearing sort of way. Varric likes her."

"Well, if Varric likes her," Bethany chortled, not needing to finish that sentence. "I would like to meet her though."

"Perhaps we may visit her tomorrow," Aria softly said, sinking lower into the water. "Oh sister, you are too good to me."

"Pfff! I did it for myself as much as you," Bethany scoffed. "You should have smelled yourself."

"Oh stop it!" Aria squealed, splashing a handful of foam and hot water at her sister. "I did _not_ smell that bad!"

Bethany giggled. "You're right, you didn't. But I can't not give you hell for leaving me here."

"There were a lot of ambushes, a lot of creatures, and a lot of spirits. I'm thankful you were here. Let the rest of them get killed—but not you."

"That's a terribly selfish thing to say," Bethany scolded gently.

"It isn't, because I don't do it for myself. I do it for mother," Aria retorted.

"I know, Aria. It's just—I hate that you're the one who has to be in danger all the time. I know, I have to worry about the Circle and the templars, but they won't outright kill me. You're putting your life on the line all the time while I sit idly by like a scared rabbit in a hole."

"That doesn't make you a coward and you have done so much good for our countrymen. The work you do with Anders is vital to the refugees' survival."

"You are being far too modest sister. I saw the gouge in your armour when you walked in. And the blood that stains your clothes. Anders healed you?"

Aria sank under the water before answering, only continuing the conversation when she wiped the foam and soap from her head and face after emerging.

"Yes. And between you and me, I can't take it if that man touches me," Aria replied at last.

"Oh it can't be that awful!" Bethany shouted, rolling her eyes.

"It's not. That's the problem," Aria moaned, covering her face with her hands.

"I see. And he won't…" she trailed off, looking to Aria to finish the thought.

"He won't."

"Perhaps I should write Ser Devon a letter," Bethany teased.

"And people call _me_ a shrew," Aria laughed. "I'm fairly certain a man like him was snatched up by some comely Denerim maiden and has a gaggle of children by now."

"Well, then you're better off. You hate children."

Aria threw another handful of water and suds at her sister. "I don't hate them! I just don't want them. Big difference."

"But why? You'd be a wonderful mother!"

"Right. I'd take them on ambushes with bandits and into caves with the giant spiders. It would be an incredible learning experience!"

"You won't be fighting for forever, you know. Someday, you'll be a wealthy, affluent, influential woman and you'll have men courting you at every turn. Good men. With pedigrees," Bethany said, looking haughty.

"I don't want a man with a pedigree."

"No, you want a man with a purpose. Except, you're only drawn to men whose purpose is bigger than their want of you."

It stung, but it was true. Ser Devon was of the Order and answered the higher calling of the Chantry and the Maker. Anders had Justice and his freedom fight for magic. Fenris…he was hellbent on making Danarius pay at any cost.

"Sister, I'm sorry—I didn't mean—" Bethany started after Aria was silent for several moments.

"No, Bethany. You're right," Aria softly replied.

"You're the only woman capable of keeping them from going too far. You're the only woman strong enough to save them from self-destruction. It is your burden to bear—just don't be afraid to cast it off should it threaten your life," Bethany sweetly said.

"When did you get so wise?" Aria teased, throwing a sprig of lavender that floated in the foam at her sister.

"When you became so strong," Bethany simply stated.

They smiled at each other and were silent. Aria scrubbed her hair with the lavish shampoo and Bethany used a pitcher of warm water to rinse it for her. They didn't speak again until Aria was allowing the cream rinse to soak into her hair and scalp.

"I have a feeling that all of this…this fighting, this good-deed-doing, this emerging triangle or whatever the hell it is… It's only going to get worse. I fear that there will not be an end. That we will not have happy endings. That the sadness and despair will only take root and grow, and never be cut down," Aria said as she rested her back against the small, cramped tub.

"The end is what you make it," Bethany said. "One of the most intelligent, dynamic, and bravest people I know said that."

"Oh ha-ha," Aria snidely laughed, the light in her eyes playful. "All right, what do you want?"

Bethany laughed loudly and heartily. "I want nothing. I'm just glad you're home. I fear more and more for you every day. To hear the things people say on the streets—I fear you're right. There is much more coming. But, I know too, that you can handle anything that comes your way."

"Do not fear for me," Aria gently said. "I am—well-protected."

"A bonus from having your companions in love with you?" Bethany teased.

"Oh bugger off it!" Aria hollered, splashing water at her sister again.

"It is entertaining, you know," Bethany chided, ignoring the water that penetrated her skirt.

"I'm so glad you find my predicaments so amusing," Aria leeringly retorted.

"Mmm, so does Varric. I'm certain he'll have a lovely addition to his forthcoming periodical," Bethany said, standing. "I'll be at the Hanged Man or at the clinic. Talk to you later, sister."

"Later," Aria agreed, slipping below the surface to rinse the cream from her hair. She emerged from under the water and decided that it was time for her to get out of the bath. The water was dirty and beginning to cool off too rapidly. She covered herself in a couple of large towels, then walked to her bedroom.

She quickly donned her only clean pair of black knit panties, a black lace brassiere that she'd bought last week, black suede leggings, and a black peasant blouse that was utilitarian but also reasonably fashionable. She did her hair in its usual ornate bun, keeping it all up out of her face. Next, she tugged on her black doeskin boots and her leather weapons harness for her daggers. Lastly, she donned her favorite hooded cloak to conceal her daggers and protect her shoulders and head from the late afternoon sun.

It was terribly hot today and Aria was seriously reconsidering the wonderful idea she'd had in wearing all black clothes. It wasn't so bad when she reached Hightown and the breeze from the sea hit her. She took a stroll through the Chantry gardens, finding it incredibly soothing among the flowers and the larks. She snipped a few sprigs of lavender, a couple handfuls of vanilla blossoms, and a few buds of sage and deposited them in her satchel. Her stocks of soaps were starting to dwindle and she needed the items so Bethany could craft it for her. Aria also clipped a number of dark purple lilac buds and hid them in her satchel so that Bethany could make some potpourri for their room out of it.

When she left the gardens, she noticed a shadow at the top of one of the walls. She caught it just out of the corner of her eye and when she turned her head it was gone. Sighing, she unsheathed her main hand dagger, using her cloak to keep it concealed. She yanked her hood up and proceeded through the gates, making her way towards the Hightown markets.

She was stopped when someone called out a name that could only mean her.

"Song bird!" the voice addressed her from nearly twenty feet away. It was given low, meant for only her ears.

Aria turned to face the voice, her tawny eyes searching, her hood falling back. She caught movement in the shadows near the entrance to the estates. The silvery head in the dark was a dead giveaway.

"Fenris?" Aria asked, sheathing her dagger and crouching into the shadow with him.

"You are quite bold stealing flowers from the Chantry," he said as she joined him.

"And you are quite bold for following me. I planted half the lavender and all of the vanilla flowers in that garden, if you must know. It's a community thing. Everyone gives, everyone takes," Aria challenged.

"What are you doing with them?" he queried, his emerald green eyes nearly glowing in the darkness.

"Bethany crafts soaps and the like for me," Aria answered.

He leaned close and touched his nose to her hairline, just below her ear. She shuddered as he breathed in deeply. He noticed the goosebumps on her arms and his mouth briefly quirked at one corner.

"You always smell divine," Fenris huskily stated.

"And you always look it," Aria replied, clapping a hand over her mouth. "I don't know what's gotten in to me—"

Fenris chuckled, leaning toward her and tenderly pushing her cloak away from her shoulders. "You are a beautiful woman, Aria Hawke."

"You're an intoxicating presence, Fenris," she headily came back.

"Aria," he sighed, his hands going down her bare arms. "I must be off. I just saw you enter the gardens and figured I'd keep a look out for you. One can never be too careful in this city."

Aria smiled ruefully as she allowed him to pull her to her feet. "I can hold my own. Thanks for the extra security. But before you go, I want to apologize."

He tilted his head quizzically to the side. "For?"

"I know it wasn't easy for you to help a mage."

"Just so long as you realize and bear in mind the fact that she is a blood mage and can't be trusted," he said, his eyes riveted on hers. "There is no need for apology. Just extra vigilance."

"I'll do my best," she replied softly.

"What Marethari said," he continued, striding back up to her. "What do you think she meant?"

Aria was silent for a moment, keenly aware of how he kept breathing deeply, inhaling her perfume. "I don't know, to be honest. There's a number of ways it could be interpreted, I suppose."

"And of the Witch?"

"Hers was most cryptic of all, though she seems to be well aware of you," Aria said.

His expression grew contemplative as he considered the long shadows that covered the corridors and arches in darkness. "I believe that I'm not yet truly free, but I will be. How beautiful will that day be, when I can finally claim ownership of myself?"

Aria laid a hand on his shoulder, alarmed by the heat of his skin. He was always so incredibly warm. "You already can. The only one who doesn't know it yet is Danarius. And we'll take care of him."

"Thank you, Aria," he said, looking down into her eyes.

"You're welcome, Fenris," she replied, gently backing away from him.

He gave her a half-smile, then turned and disappeared into the shadows. Aria pulled her cloak back around her and darted through the courtyards down the steps and to the market place. She quickly descended the steps to Lowtown and raced home.

She quickly dropped her foraged vegetation off at Gamlen's, perturbed that no one was home. Gamlen was probably in the Blooming Rose, but Mother's absence was a bit more hard, and unsettling to try and explain. She decided to try her luck at the Hanged Man and see if Bethany was there.

As she strode in, she noticed a little scuffle going on at the bar. One of the local tavern rats, Lucky, was hassling an obviously Rivaini woman. She was dark skinned, buxom, and lithe, her movement suggesting that she was no stranger to libidinous endeavors. Her jewelry and dress spoke of time spent at sea.

"You owe us, Isabela," Lucky, a tall, reddish-blond brutish man was saying to the Rivaini, who kept her back to him. He rounded the bar so that he was in front of her, seeking intimidation.

"Well Lucky, I'll tell you what," the Rivaini, Isabela, sweetly drawled. "Since the information you gave me was worth nothing…that's what I'll pay you."

"Me and my boys will get our money's worth, bitch," Lucky cursed, sidling up to her and grabbing her arm.

Isabela tilted her head and leaned closer to him, purring "Oh you poor, sweet thing." She tilted her head more and was a hair's breadth from kissing him when she grabbed a handful of his hair and slammed his head on the bar.

She instantly sprang into action, fending off and disabling the other two louts who had accompanied Lucky this evening. Just as she disabled the last of the two, Lucky moved to strike. She whirled impressively and came to a sudden, swift halt, the blade of her dagger just beginning to worry the fine hairs on his throat.

"Tell me, Lucky: Is this worth dying for?"

The hooligans swiftly departed. Isabela leveled her dark, stormy hazel stare on Aria, a suggestive smile curling her lips. Aria nodded politely and bounded up the steps to Varric's quarters, feeling the Rivaini's gaze upon her rather than seeing it. To her surprise, she found everyone but Aveline and Fenris already there.

"Oho! The hero deigns to grace us with her presence!" Varric cheered as Aria poked her silvery head in.

"Haha! I'm so glad you decided to come out tonight, sister!" Bethany said, her pretty, fair cheeks flushed dusty rose with the effects of the mead. She was quite stunning, with her pale skin, her short, shiny dark hair, and her compassionate, soft, doe-like eyes.

"Come, pull up a stool and I'll buy you a drink," Anders said, tugging an empty stool out from under the table next to him.

"So long as it stays under five tonight, guys," Aria laughed, accepting the seat he offered.

"Five what?" said Merrill, hiccupping.

"Never you mind, Daisy," Varric laughed. "Hawke's just trying to be a spoil sport."

The servant girl, Norah, came up with a tray loaded with all manners of tankards and alcohol. There was dwarven ale, Fereldan ale, Kirkwaller ale, meads from all over the world, and a few shots of clear liquid that Aria knew was not water. She took one of the small glasses and sniffed.

"Careful, Hawke," Varric chortled. "That'll put you on your ass!"

"What is it?" Aria asked, bringing the little shot glass to her lips.

"Moonshine," Varric answered. "Finest in Kirkwall. Guaranteed to put you down where you stand."

"Huh," Aria nonchalantly said, draining the shot and slamming it on the table. "We'll just have to see about that, now won't we?"

They all burst into cheers and took their own tankards from the tray. They all knocked the rims of them together in friendly toasts, then settled back down to drinking and storytelling. Varric began with a tale that he'd just written.

"Hawke, Blondie, you might want to cover your ears for this one," Varric said before starting.

Aria looked to Anders, who smiled back at her. He slipped his hand over her knee beneath the table where no one could see. Aria fought to keep her breathing even and her heart from hammering a hole through her chest.

"I think we'll be just fine," Anders said.

Varric's tale was a simple, embellished recounting of their most recent quest, in which they brought Merrill down to the alienage and gave Flemeth back her locket. Merrill didn't realize this until very late in the story, where she often interjected with her own thoughts. Varric was gracious as usual and incorporated her takes on the plot into the telling.

When he got to the part where Aria had felled the Arcane Horror and found herself narrowly evading the cliff face, Varric made up a new twist in which the mage and the elf both reached for her and pulled her back. He embellished again, saying the mage and elf crossed blades over the matter of the lady's affections, but the handsome, gilt-tongued dwarf rogue in the party settled them down. The elven mage they'd come across did the ritual with the locket and the witch Flemeth appeared, giving each of them a piece of advice that they would do well to heed.

As the story came to an end, when Asha'bellanar flew away, Varric made his own little prophecy.

"As the dragon-formed Flemeth took to the sky, her mighty wings thumping like the beat of a giant heart and her roar heard for miles, the heroes revisited the witch's words to them, her warnings. The Lady was especially troubled, but she needn't be. While she may not have the wings of a dragon to lift her, she has so many more to choose from. The Lady Hawke need not fear falling. She already knows she can fly," Varric tenderly stated, his eyes on Aria's. "And that, my friends, is a tale for next time!"

They all clapped. Bethany dabbed at the tears that formed in the corners of her eyes, her gaze meeting with Aria's for a moment. She smiled and reached across the table, grasping her sister's hand. Aria couldn't speak. Varric had such a way with words. She wanted to say something sarcastic to diffuse the sappiness of the situation but couldn't find the right thing to say. Merrill was gazing starry-eyed at Varric.

"What a beautiful story," Merrill said, resting her head on her folded arms where they rested on the table. "I hadn't seen it like that at all. Can you really fly, Aria?"

Aria laughed. "I haven't any real wings, Merrill. Varric meant figuratively."

"Figuratively. Oh right, not literally! But then, what does it mean?"

Anders chuckled, his hand still resting on Aria's knee, squeezing gently. "It means, Merrill, that she has people who will catch her should she fall. And if she cannot be caught, well, there are those of us who will employ whatever means necessary to ensure her survival."

He looked into Aria's eyes as he said this, fighting the urge to tuck her hair behind her ear. Her cheeks flushed and she timidly smiled back at him.

"Oh! She has us!" Merrill giggled, nearly falling off her stool. It was enough to snap Anders and Aria out of the trance they'd been in.

Aria hurriedly snatched a pint of the Kirkwaller Mead and chugged about half of it before rejoining the conversation. Varric meanwhile cut Daisy off from further imbibing. She had a hard enough time finding her way around Lowtown, let alone doing it drunk in the dark.

"So what's next, Hawke?" Varric queried, lifting his tankard to his lips and finishing it. The display between her and Anders had been carefully observed, much to Aria's dismay.

"There's plenty to be done. I've been hunting down leads Athenril's been sending my way."

"I thought you weren't working with her anymore," Bethany pouted. "Aria, you promised—"

"It's nothing like what we used to do, Bethany," Aria quickly consoled. "It's just security on shipments, tracking down missing items, oh—and I forgot. We have to go to the Bone Pit for Hubert. Figure out why the miners have stopped reporting in."

Varric groaned. "And when are we supposed to be doing all of this?"

At this, Aria grinned rather devilishly. "Well, I'm dangling Hubert by his purse strings a little. Thinks he can insult a Fereldan to their face and they won't do anything about it. I guess we could have gone a few days ago, but he's losing his ass in gold every day that I hold off. I figured I'd bleed him a bit, then help."

Varric laughed heartily. "Remind me never to get on your bad side, Hawke."

"Oh you needn't worry. You don't speak with an Orlesian accent," Aria retorted.

Just then a knock sounded on the door. They all looked up to see a beautiful, buxom Rivaini pirate woman standing there. Her eyes leveled on Aria. Varric stood.

"Ah, Rivaini! Come to join the party?" Varric cajoled, waving the woman in.

She bowed respectfully and entered, pulling a stool out next to Aria. She extended her hand to the other rogue, and Aria took it.

"You're new around here aren't you?" she asked as she sat down. "Welcome, and keep your wits about you. You're nothing but tits and ass to the men in this place, and they won't hesitate to grab both," she said, taking the tankard Varric proffered.

Aria sat back a little, her posture assuming a defensive stance, her hand sneaking up her cloak to her shoulder and resting on the hilt of one of her daggers. "Speaking from experience, are we?"

The woman, Isabela, Lucky had called her, laughed low and suggestively in her throat. "After a few broken fingers here and there, they got the idea," she said, looking Aria over. "You needn't be so cautious. If I wanted to hurt you, you'd already be dead."

"I highly doubt that, Madam, and you're not at all welcome to try," Anders coldly said, his eyes hard as onyx.

The Rivaini chuckled again and turned her attention back to Aria. Aria got the distinct impression that she was being sized up—like a prize stallion at market. It set her teeth on edge and she kept her fingers on the hilt of the dagger.

"I'm Isabela," the Rivaini said, taking a swig from the tankard Varric had given her. "Previously 'Captain Isabela'. Sadly, without my ship, the title rings a bit hollow. You're Fereldan, aren't you?"

Aria nodded tersely, not giving any more details away before she could do her own feeling out.

"You have that look about you. I was in Denerim not too long ago. You know, you might be just what I'm looking for to solve a little problem I have," Isabela continued.

Aria sighed and sat back in her chair, glaring at the ceiling for a second before leveling her tawny stare on the Rivaini. "Can't anyone fix their own lives around here?"

"Must be something in the water," Isabela warmly chuckled. "Someone from my past has been pestering me. I've arranged for a duel—if I win, he leaves me alone. But, I don't trust him to play fair. I need someone to watch my back."

Aria turned her head to look at the woman, who smiled seductively and placed her hand on Aria's thigh, leaning in slightly so that their faces were closer. "What makes you think I'm right for this?" Aria coldly asked, not batting an eyelash as the pirate's face stopped mere inches from her own.

"You saw me talking to Lucky, didn't you?" she almost purred, the honey in the mead evident on her breath. "Those boys couldn't manage simple information-gathering. I can't trust the riff raff in this place to do anything right. But you…" she said, trailing a finger down Aria's arm. "You're different."

Aria sighed and took a long draught from the tankard in front of her. She slammed the empty vessel down and looked back at the Rivaini, who still sat way too close. "I think I could manage watching your back."

Isabela sat back, a throaty chuckle bubbling from her mouth. "I'll bet you can," she said, licking her lips. "I've arranged t meet Hayder in Hightown after dark five days from now. I'll meet you there." She stood and made her exit, stopping at the door to turn and address Varric. "Thanks for the mead, handsome. I'll see you around."

"Anytime, Rivaini," Varric chuckled as she shut the door.

"I do not like her," Anders said as soon as the pirate's boot steps were out of hearing range.

"She's—interesting," Merrill chimed. "I like her skin. It's very dark and very mysterious."

"Ah, Daisy. You must learn to be careful," Varric chuckled.

"I don't like her either," Bethany softly added.

"She's a pirate. A temptress. A rogue. She's driven, focused, and talented in her own ways. But I will never trust a word she says if it doesn't involve some gain for her. Altruism is not in her nature and she'll be quick to sell you out if her hide is in danger," Aria said, dragging the other shot of moonshine across the table with the tip of her index finger.

"An accurate assessment," Varric laughed. "And are you so rattled that you need that, Hawke?"

Aria cast him a sidelong grin, her tawny eyes sparkling mischief. "Rattled? Ser Dwarf, you wound me. Rattled am I not. However, I am thirsty and a fire in my belly would be much appreciated. So," she said, lifting the little glass to her lips. "Down the hatch!"

They cheered when she slammed the little glass on the table. Varric rang the servant bell for Norah and they continued talking amongst themselves well into the night. It was nearly midnight when Merrill took her leave, escorted by Bethany.

To their surprise, no sooner had the two mages left, when Aveline came tromping in.

"Oh, you would not _believe_ the headache nobles can give you," Aveline said as she sat down and took the pint of Kirkwaller ale that Varric gave her. "Thank you, Varric. I trust your mission to the Dales went well?" Her gaze circulated quickly around the room, meeting each of theirs in turn.

"It did. You actually just missed our newest addition," Aria said, smiling as Norah entered the room with a fresh tray of tankards. Aria was quick to hand over the necessary silvers and left Norah a generous tip. Varric nodded his head in thanks that Aria bought this round.

"I had heard there was a new Dalish in the alienage. Is she dangerous?"

Anders snorted. "Depends. She's whimsical and a bit daft. Oh, and she consorts with demons so… No, no real danger. None at all."

Aveline's green gaze spat sparks as she turned to Aria. "Hawke?" she said, her voice commanding an answer.

"Oh for the love of Andraste," Aria said, elbowing Anders in the ribs. She took a hearty swig from her pint of mead and continued. "She's a Dalish First. She was supposed to inherit the Keeper's responsibilities, but she is obsessed with recovering Dalish history and artifacts. She's actually very friendly and one of the nicest, most absent-minded creatures you'll ever meet."

"But she consorts with demons," Aveline said, not won by the gloss Aria had thrown over the subject.

"Yes, and Anders is a spirit abomination," Aria said. "Your point, messere?"

Anders glowered at Aria, but the slight smile tugging at his lips made her ignore it. Aveline sighed heavily and took another long drink.

"Just see to it that she doesn't cause any trouble," Aveline admonished. "So how'd the mission go, besides bringing back a Dalish?"

"Hawke almost took a tumble," Anders said, barbing Aria for her crack on Justice.

"What?" Aveline said, her eyes going wide with horror.

"They make mountains out of molehills," Aria exasperatedly said, throwing up her arms. "There was this wretched spirit who just would not die. He had me at the ledge, but I smote him down. I won. It lost. End of story."

"Sounds pretty serious. But you can handle yourself," Aveline replied coolly.

"So what about those nobles giving you a headache?" Varric pressed, his elbows on the table as he cupped his chin. He was always eager for information and Aveline was privy to some real gems.

"Maker help me. If I had all day to spend concocting complaints to rain down on the Guard-Captain, I'd do much better than these lot. They constantly complain about the estate Fenris is in. It's in slight disrepair, but there are estates that are worse. And, they've complained that the name Hawke is more esteemed than their own houses and they want to put a ban on ever uttering the word," Aveline launched into her vexation, smirking at Aria as she recounted that last bit.

"Oh stop it. They did not either. But what about this thing with Fenris? Is it serious? Is he in danger?" Aria asked, kicking herself for the look of pure jealous hatred that washed over Anders's face.

"Not immediately, no. But if he doesn't do something about the appearance of that mansion, I may not be able to hold off his—eventual eviction if it comes to it," Aveline said. "They don't know he's there, I think. But they complain that the estate's condition brings down the values of their own estates."

"Hmm," Varric said, stroking his chin between his index and thumb. "Let me see what I can do, Aveline. I might be able to stir something up."

"So long as it isn't illegal and doesn't come back on me, Varric," Aveline said, her eyes playful.

"Madam! Do you really see me as such a low criminal?" Varric replied, feigning a wound to his heart.

"I take you for that and much more!" Aveline playfully challenged.

Varric guffawed loudly and slapped the table. "I knew I liked you for a reason, Aveline!"

"Yes well, just mind your methods and we won't have any trouble," Aveline retorted.

"The elf needn't worry. I'll take care of it," Varric said, extending his hand to Aveline. She took it and shook it.

"See that you do," she said. "So, where are you off to next?" she addressed Aria.

"Probably the Bone Pit," Aria replied, swiping foam from her lip as she finished her mead.

"Hubert's a fool for mining there. And he uses refugees for cheap labour," Anders spat, his mood not improving since Aria had expressed interest in Fenris's welfare.

"Hubert," Aveline groaned, rubbing her temples. "He's been in my office demanding that I send guards. There is no one at the mines, so why would I need to send guards there? Oh, and do please hurry up on that promise, Hawke. He's come in the past two days demanding that I clap you in irons for failure to deliver on a service."

Aria snorted at this. "He would do well to learn a bit of humility. He insulted my kinsmen to my face, then expected me to just run along and do his bidding. I plan on going there tomorrow. I just wanted to dent his purse a little first."

"I'd do the same," Aveline said. "I wish I could join you, but I've got obligations—"

"Aveline, you needn't explain yourself," Aria gently cut her off. "We all know you're busy. I'll take Fenris in your stead."

"Fenris. Do you trust him?" Aveline asked.

"He's never given me reason not to," Aria honestly replied.

"Fair enough," Aveline said. "Well, I think this should do it for me for the night. I'll see you all soon, I bet."

"Good night, Aveline," Varric said, inclining his head politely. She nodded in response.

"Do watch yourself on these streets. The scum are likely out," Anders said.

"I think they'll think twice about assaulting the captain of the guard," Aveline replied. "But thank you for your concern. Hawke—" she said, extending her hand to the rogue. Aria took it. "Be careful tomorrow. I've heard bad things about the Bone Pit and the miners aren't there because they're simply too lazy to work. It's dangerous."

"I'll be careful," Aria said, shaking the captain's hand and releasing it.

"Do. Good night."

"Goodnight," they all said in unison.

Aria stretched and leaned back in her chair. "It's been a hell of a day."

Varric yawned and also stretched. "Yeah—I'm gonna have Norah prepare me a bath. Then I'm hitting the sheets. You're welcome to crash here, but I think Bethany would have a fit if you weren't home."

Anders stood then, offering Aria his arm. She politely took it and turned back to Varric. "Thank you, Varric. You're a trusted, formidable ally."

"My pleasure, madam," he said with a flourish. "Likewise."

"Goodnight, Varric," Anders said as they reached the door.

"Goodnight, Blondie."

Anders closed the door and they descended the steps leading into the lower part of the tavern. Isabela waved to them from her perch at the bar, her brows shooting up in curiosity at the manner with which they walked. Her eyes settled for a moment on their linked arms and she winked at Aria. Aria ignored her after that and allowed Anders to lead her outside.

The night was warm and the fragrance of Lady Elegant's wildflowers drifted through the square. A stray cat scurried ahead of them and Anders made a mewling sound in his throat. The cat turned toward him for a split second, then disappeared into the shadows towards Darktown.

"You are fond of them," Aria liltingly said, allowing him to pull her slightly closer.

"Cats are incredible creatures. They're every bit as smart as a Mabari, but they're more…more…"

"Independent. I understand," Aria softly chuckled, placing her free hand on top of the one that held his arm.

He smiled at the gesture and continued walking, their shoulders and hips gently bumping as they walked.

"Are you truly worried about Fenris?"

Aria sighed. "He's part of our little squadron. Of course I worry. What would those Hightown noble idiots have done to him if they found out? They'd have him deported and sent right back to Tevinter, and I doubt he'd go without a fight."

"So it is merely—professional worry?" Anders tentatively asked.

Aria stopped walking and faced him. "Anders—if any of you were in danger, I'd react the same. Fenris, you, Varric, Aveline, Merrill, Bethany… Any of you."

"I just—I'm sorry I can't control myself. The thought of another man touching you—"

"Perhaps that is exactly what I need, what I'm yearning for, Anders," Aria softly said, leaning into him and sliding her palm gently down his face.

His hands went around her waist and drew her sharply to him. He looked down into those fiery, brown-gold eyes and saw what she wanted. What she needed of him. He tenderly cupped her face in his hands.

"Aria," he shakily whispered. "What I'd give to have you to myself…"

"Then give it," she whispered. "And claim me. Otherwise, Anders… My heart won't wait forever."

He crushed her to him, nearly sobbing as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Her lips caressed his jaw, finding his ear and the soft, sensitive bit of flesh just behind it. Her breath gently grazed his skin and set his blood on fire. Maker, he wanted her more than anything in creation. But then there was the voice of Justice, telling him it wouldn't be fair to her. He had a purpose, and that purpose would surely only lead to her demise. He couldn't destroy her.

"Aria," he whispered, moaning as her lips grazed his neck. He gently pushed her back enough that he could look down into her eyes. He cupped her face again, his thumbs smoothing over her cheeks. "It would be the most selfish thing I could ever do. It would…destroy you," he nearly sobbed.

"Anders, please," she pleaded, stroking his face with her own hand. "You're stronger than you think. I'm stronger than you think. Just please…"

Anders closed his eyes tightly shut, trying to ward off the sudden ache that took his heart at her words. He should never have let his feelings for her known, and Maker help him, he couldn't stay away from her. She was a potent drug, irresistible, indomitable. She was his other half, but his sins wouldn't allow him to claim her as such.

"Aria, I can't," he said, tears streaming down his cheeks. "Maker help me, I want to. My heart…my heart is ever yours. But I can't."

She slowly backed away, her chin lowering. "I think—I understand."

"Do you?" he asked, gently touching her shoulder.

Aria looked up at him, trying to figure out if she really did understand. Was it really Justice he was afraid of? Or did he have something planned that would be his undoing? Was _that_ the fate he was protecting her from? Had he really given up all hope?

"You will—eventually—be forced to act in such a way that it will mean the forfeiture of your life," she quietly said, the words becoming surer with each syllable pronounced.

The breath rushed out of his chest. How could she know? How could she fathom what burdens had been set unto him when he decided to bear Justice? But at least this way, now that she knew, she understood.

"What I'm at a loss about is why you think you have to do something like that," Aria continued, her gaze lifting to his again, her eyes sad and her tone slightly accusatory. "Such an act will not bring peace, Anders. Not for you, and not for anyone you love."

He stood there in stunned silence, tears rolling from his eyes at her words. He fell to his knees before her, burying his head against her waist, his fingers tangling in the cloak that surrounded her. Her arms gently folded around his shoulders and they stayed like that a good long while. He wept silently, clinging to her. All the sorrow, all the hatred he had for the injustice in this world would kill him and she knew it. He knew it now, too. He couldn't let it take her. He wouldn't.

He slowly rose to his feet, wiping at his eyes with the sleeves of his robe. She watched him, those tawny eyes catching everything. He offered her a smile, but it was bitter and sad.

She touched his face again, her own eyes hurt and pleading. "Why must you go to such lengths, Anders? Why is it not enough that you already help so many in need?"

He jerked away from her, working to harden his eyes, then feeling the nauseating sensation of the fade portal opening. "Because it is not what I'm meant for," he said, his tone taking on a much sharper edge. "I'm meant to bring down every injustice done unto mages and hold those who trespassed against us responsible."

Aria stepped back, seeing the immediate change in him. The white light pulsed weakly beneath his skin. "Then you will have us all killed," she snapped.

"If you deserve it!" he shot back, taking a step towards her. The white light was much more pronounced now and she recognized his voice was not his own anymore.

"Then that is _not_ justice!" she shouted back, stepping up so that she looked him dead in the eyes. "That is vengeance, and vengeance is as much a sin as murder!"

"I am Justice!"

"No, you're not," Aria softly stated, reaching up and touching his face, knowing Anders was in there somewhere.

The light faded and he was himself again, though much weakened and drained of his energy and mana.

"Do you see now?" Anders whispered.

"Justice is a coward. Rather than take the time to actually find those at fault he blames everyone and would see us _all_ killed," Aria spat.

"That part isn't him," Anders gently said. "That's my anger. That's my…wrath. He absorbed it and this is what has happened."

"Cast him out," Aria said, rounding on him. "Cast him out and relinquish him to the fade where he belongs. Let him wreak his righteous havoc there. Not here."

"It isn't that simple, Aria," he pleaded. "He's…part of me now. The only way to do that would be to make me…Tranquil. Could you do that to me?"

She touched his face. "I'll kill you myself if that ever happens to you."

He kissed her palm and gently set it back at her side. "Then I'm truly grateful to have such a compassionate friend as you."

"It's late," Aria wearily said, looking back at the alley that led to her home.

"It is. I must go. When you're ready to leave in the morning, send for me. I'll be there," he softly said.

"I have to bring Fenris," she admonished.

"It won't be a problem," Anders said, and his expression was earnest.

"Anders—"

"Aria?"

"I wish you could be happy," she said, tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

"I traded that ability away in the hope that others, many, many others, could be happy. Take heart, Aria. You've given me more than I had ever dared hope for."

He turned then and swiftly disappeared into the alley that led down to Darktown. She stood and watched the place where he'd gone from view, unable to move. She wasn't quite sure what had happened tonight, but she did feel a strange inner peace. Like some weight had just been removed from her shoulders.

A cold breeze blew in off the sea, chilling her into action. She sighed and traipsed back towards Gamlen's hovel, deeply lost in thought. She understood. She thought she had before, but now… She understood. But she wasn't going to give up on him. She wasn't going to lose hope that somehow, Anders would be victorious without the bloodshed Justice—Vengeance—demanded.


	15. Chapter FOURTEEN

**Chapter Fourteen**

Aria sat on the cliffs that overlooked the Waking Sea, her armour clean, her daggers sharp and in their sheaths on her back, her hair in its usual ornate array, pulled up high on her head. She breathed deeply the salty, fresh breeze and sighed.

The sun was just rising, turning the water to blood where it touched the horizon to the East. Aria did not like the looks of the day. But she was not one to take stock in wives tales about blood in the water. The sky above was a riot of dusty and vibrant hues of orange, pink, blue, and purple. It contrasted starkly with the dull red of the water. Some would say that fate would claim the life of a love today.

In her mind, Aria told fate to kindly fuck off.

She did not turn as the wind suddenly kicked up behind her, the feral, spicy scent she associated with the elf briefly wafting toward her. He sat next to her, silent as death, and looked out over the sea. They waited a few moments before he shattered the silence with his deep, raspy voice.

"Blood in the water, your people are fond of saying."

Aria snorted, regarding Fenris with a disgruntled scowl. "That happens every sunny morning. It's rubbish."

Fenris chuckled. "Wisdom of the obvious, but often discarded sort."

"People believe fairytales over truth every day."

"You're talking about the Maker?"

"And every other religion."

"I never took you to be the anarchist sort," Fenris sniggered . His sarcasm was not lost on her.

"Yes well, no one's perfect."

It was then that the clinking of chain mail and the swish of mage robes could be heard just beyond the nearest bluff. Aria returned her gaze to the sea, the sun's ascent turning a dark orange and the water no longer looking as though it consisted of blood.

"I hate mornings," Varric's sleep-roughened voice came to her ears as he clumsily plopped next to her. "Why do we have to get up so early?"

"It could be worse, Varric. You could just never sleep," Aria softly said, eyes darting to the flock of gulls that suddenly departed one of the cliffs, their mournful voices creating a cacophony that reverberated across the otherwise silent harbor.

He grunted in response.

"We aren't getting much done sitting here on our asses," Anders cheerily stated. "We've got to check out the mines. Shall we?"

Aria ignored the various sounds of distaste that rumbled from both Varric and Fenris, standing nimbly and bounding towards the trail that led up to the Bone Pit. "Gentlemen, we have coin to earn."

As they cleared the bluffs, coming to the summit of the cliff into which the mines had been built, a wind reeking of death assailed their nostrils. Varric gagged. Fenris commented on it and swore in his strange Tevinter tongue. Anders snarled.

They walked up to the mouth of the nearest cavern and proceeded down into the dark passage. It stank of sulfur, various ores, and the unmistakable scents of old and new death. They'd barely reached the bottom before a few giant spiders assaulted them.

Aria was taken by surprise as a venomous giant spider lunged from its camouflage in the shadows and pinned her against the cave wall. She instinctively held it off by its two foremost legs, its pincers snapping for her neck and dripping with a neon green ooze. She nearly retched at the stench of its sour breath, struggling for a foothold to keep herself upright.

"Hawke!" she heard Varric shout in alarm, sending a triplet of bolts thunking deep into the spider's thick exoskeleton in its abdomen.

The arachnid seemed unfazed, continuing its assault on her as she fought to hold the venomous fangs at bay. She'd dropped both daggers to catch the assailing creature's legs and now one was under her foot, hindering her desperate quest for steady footing.

Then the creature's abdomen was split clean up the middle before her eyes, its thorax cleaved neatly in two by Fenris's hand. Hawke scurried out from under the spider's corpse, stopping to kick its head in before rejoining Anders and Varric from their ranged-attack points.

"Well I guess that rules out bandits," Aria said, slapping dust and spider slobber from her leggings.

"Or the bandits also became fodder," Varric replied, toeing a rusted helm near the wall of the cavern where the skeletal remains of a human laid.

The party continued on through the labyrinth of mining tunnels and caverns, destroying many more spiders, and even some dragonlings. The appearance of the infant dragons left Aria uneasy and her battle-tuned senses were on high alert. She liked dragons—so long as they kept their distance or were really the Witch of the Wilds in disguise.

They ran into a miner, who had escaped certain death for the time. Aria sent him back through to tunnels they'd cleared to report to that ridiculous Orlesian, Hubert.

"Hawke, I know you've faced down ogres but dragons? I don't think they leave a nest unguarded," Varric said as they pressed on to where the miner had indicated the presence of one such creature.

"Where's your sense of adventure, Varric?" Aria glibly replied, stepping onto a ledge that overlooked one of the Bone Pit's many treacherous valleys.

A feral, ear-shattering scream rent the air from overhead and they were momentarily buffeted by a blast of wing-blown wind. Aria stumbled into cover behind a boulder, crouching back to back with Fenris. He regarded her with grim determination as their latest foe descended onto the ledge.

Sighing, Aria looked over to where Anders and Varric had taken cover behind another large boulder. Varric was nocking a triplet on Bianca. Anders was peering at the new arrival with eyes wide as dinner plates. Aria motioned to them to stay in cover while they launched their ranged assault to draw the beast's attention.

The dragon screamed and sent a torrent of white-hot flames at their cover. Aria took the chance and sneaked behind the beast, launching her own assault on it's flank. She dodged the frenzied beast's heavy foot falls, always keeping to the rear. Fenris raced out from cover and slid under the dragon's belly, slashing at the less thickly scaled hide of the monstrosity's stomach.

They continued thus for nearly an hour, taking turns drawing the formidable beast's attention whilst the others attacked. Aria saw her chance at last when Fenris had drawn the she-dragon's focus. She clambered up the magnificent animal's shoulder, then vaulted onto it's neck. With all her strength, bolstered by help from Anders's mana, she drove both daggers deep into the dragon's skull. With a heavy sigh, the beast's body gave way and she crashed to the earth.

Aria slid down from the animal's great head and turned to survey their work. It made her slightly sad to have slain such a magnificent creature. She'd been defending her young, and they killed her for it. Aria knelt beside her and rested her head against the scaly, tough cheek bone of the animal. She whispered a prayer for peace in the afterlife for the giant and stayed there a moment.

"Hawke?" Fenris's voice greeted her ears.

She turned abruptly and saw the trio of her companions looking quizzically at her. "Yes?"

"You're—crying," Anders softly stated, moving forward to offer her his hand.

She swiped angrily at the tears she hadn't realized were falling and took his help. Aria didn't say anything as they looted the corpse for what necessities and marketable goods they could carry. When they'd gotten all they could, Aria silently led them back to Kirkwall. She left her companions to their drinking at the Hanged Man, her parting silent. Anders tried to stop her, but Fenris intervened and Varric defused the situation by offering them both a tankard to leave Hawke alone.

Killing the dragon shouldn't have bothered her the way it did. Dragons were nuisances. They were demons, of a sort. The she-dragon would have killed her if she hadn't have gotten the beast first. Maybe it was the fact that the dragon had just been simply defending her family that unsettled her so. A family that Aria had just finished slaying. It hadn't even been that much of a fight, to be honest. She'd felt as though the dragon was only half-heartedly trying, as though perhaps she'd wanted them to end her. The thought brought the sting of tears back to her eyes and Aria berated herself for her sudden weakness.

No one was home when Aria returned to Gamlen's hovel in the slums. The place had been recently cleaned, no doubt Bethany's doing. Her sister was probably at Anders's clinic in Dark Town. Her mother was probably in High Town at the Chantry. Gamlen was most likely at the Blooming Rose getting serviced. Aria shuddered at that thought and continued into the tiny room she and Bethany shared. She pulled up a loose floor board and tugged a small locked chest free from the dust and rat droppings.

The amount in Aria's hidden coffer was steadily growing. 30 sovereigns saved so far, and that wasn't including the coin Aria carried around on her day-to-day. She had reached the halfway point in less than two months. Perhaps if she got more serious, she'd be able to scrape together the remaining 20 within the next month.

Aria was sick and fucking tired of living in this filth, with her uncle's constant disapproval and feigned hospitality. More and more lately it had been increasingly difficult to quell the urge to kill him. Bethany had started playing referee and sent Aria on errands whenever the two of them butted heads.

She laid down on her bunk and stared at the ceiling. She contemplated the wood grain in the beams for the millionth time since she'd been in Kirkwall. The plight of her mother beat at her, a subliminal pulsing that every so often rose to the surface and threatened to drown her. She had the distinct, crushing feeling that it was nowhere near over.


	16. Chapter FIFTEEN

**Chapter 15**

The next few months passed in a blur. Aria Hawke's notoriety climbed with every deed she accomplished, be it on the sly as the recalcitrant asshole of a magistrate ordered when he'd sent her to bring in an escaped convict, or boldly in the open as she and her crew cleared several mercenary gangs out of Kirkwall. Athenril's missions were easy enough—retrievals from raids the Coterie wrought upon her. Hawke scored points with Varric over smoothly lying to Athenril about her missing goods in one instance, having given them to the Fereldan boy Athenril sent to guard them, after wresting them back from the Coterie. She even scored points with Fenris when she let him handle the elf-child serial killer the magistrate had wanted back alive, who incidentally happened to be the magistrate's son. Hawke didn't care about politics; she'd make her own way, and fuck whoever stood in it or felt the pinch of the heel of her boot on their toes.

Aria Hawke had also gained a new addition to her party, the shipless pirate captain, Isabela. She helped her shady fellow rogue with her plights, and Hawke's hope for the betterment of Kirkwall was renewed when she learned Isabela had freed would-be slaves from their pending shackles. If the pirate was capable of seeing that slavery was wrong, there was hope for her black heart yet. Despite her misgivings about the pirate, Aria was becoming quite fond of Isabela's company. The pirate rogue was a breath of fresh air, refusing to live by a morally corrupt society's double standard. Isabela was all about freedom; and she said whatever was on her mind without too much candy coating. It was a trait that was maddeningly endearing.

Tensions had eased a bit between Anders and Fenris. Aria had been avoiding both of them, as she was driving everyone relentlessly in the pursuit of coin for the expedition into the Deep Roads. She owned half the mine now, and work was continuing, generating a nice little supplementary cash flow each week. She made treks up to the mine every few days to converse with the miners and protect their progress, much to Hubert's approval.

Aveline accompanied her this day on a foray to the mine, along with Isabela and Anders. In hindsight, perhaps it wasn't the wisest choice for a party, but Hawke secretly loved the verbal sparring that occurred between Aveline and Isabela. The forthright former knight hated the brash promiscuity of the shipless pirate.

"So, Isabela, you're a captain?" Aveline huffed as they started one of several rocky, steep climbs they'd be making that day.

"That's right, Big Girl. What of it?" Isabela slinkily asked.

"I don't remember your name on any registries. Every ship that docks has to declare," Aveline haughtily retorted, the underlying intent to ensnare the pirate in legal binds not hidden.

Isabela's eyes narrowed for a second, then feigned smug innocence as she said, "I never docked and you're no Port Authority."

"And you.." Aveline scoffed, pulling herself up a boulder to scathingly stare down at the dusky pirate, "Are no merchant."

"Ooooh. Scrutiny!" Isabela purred, darting past the Captain up a washed out section of the road.

"If you two can't play nice, I'm going to remove both your tongues," Aria growled. Behind her, Anders chuckled.

Isabela laughed in response and Aveline glared grudgingly at Hawke as she passed under the Captain's perch. They climbed for another hour before they reached the mining camp. Hawke made her rounds, chatting with her Fereldan countrymen. The whole group found a little piece of home in reminiscing about the mud and dogs with other refugees. Aria hadn't realized it, but she'd brought only people familiar with Ferelden on this sortie to the mines.

The party returned to Kirkwall proper early in the evening, a couple hours before sunset. Anders swiftly departed for Darktown, surreptitiously snagging and briefly squeezing Hawke's hand before he left. Isabela and Aveline walked to the Hanged Man together, bantering back and forth like warring guinea hens.

"Well, 'captain'. Can I call you Captain? You can call me Captain," Isabela said as she and the giant Guard-Captain paced away down the stairs from Hightown towards the bazaar in Lowtown.

"I won't be doing that," Aveline tersely replied, her hand on the hilt of her sword.

Isabela sniggered, "Neither will I. Becauseyou're a guard captain. No real authority. Not like on a ship."

They turned the corner past the Antivan's wares and Hawke heard Aveline glibly say, "Well, you would know about having a large number of men under you."

Isabela snidely coughed. "You've been waiting to use that one. Did you practice?"

"Shut up," Aveline quipped.

Aria shook her head and kept several paces behind them, until they disappeared behind the door to the Hanged Man. She felt oddly at peace as she trudged the rest of the way to Gamlen's hovel. Just before she set a foot on the stairs, a gruff, unintelligent voice sounded behind her.

"Filthy little dog lord."

Hawke turned slowly, her hands instinctively reaching for her daggers. She drew them and flicked her wrists, sending the large knives dancing in her hands as she spoke. "And your quarrel would be?"

He stood with four other men, cheaply armed. "We ain't got quarrel with ol' greasy, yer uncle. But you... Refugees is another matter." He spat at his feet, his greasy head lowered, his dim brown eyes issuing as much a challenge as they were capable.

"You think four men is enough for little ol' me?" Aria chimed, idly flipping the dagger in her right hand into the air and deftly catching it.

One of the men behind the gruff-voiced ringleader snorted and spat. "Keep her alive. I wanna see if she's as good in bed as they says she is in a fight."

Hawke whipped the freshly-caught dagger in her right hand straight at the man's face. It buried itself to the hilt just to the left of his nose. He dropped like a burlap full of flour. The other three men bolted. At first it looked like they were going to attack her, but then they scattered and ran screaming down the alley way from which they must have come.

"Sister, could you please keep the killing outside our neighbourhood?" Bethany's voice sweetly chimed from behind her.

Hawke turned and looked up at where her sister stood at the railing on the sad excuse Gamlen had for a porch. The eldest Hawke slowly and dutifully ascended the steps. Bethany handed her a basket. Aria gave her a questioning look, then opened the little wicker lid.

Inside the basket were a bunch of sweet smelling white and light purple wildflowers. The heads of the flowers were adorned with 7 large petals each. They had a scent such as which calls to mind a cool, silvery moonlit summer night in a garden just after a rainstorm. Next to the enormous bouquet of wildflowers were several little vials of scented oils labeled with exotic names in a foreign tongue, and a couple bunches of dried herbs.

"What is this?" Aria questioned her sister.

Bethany smiled knowingly. "A gift," she said simply.

"A...gift," Aria repeated, dumbfounded.

"Yes silly. All the key components to crafting lovely new soaps and lotions," the mage replied as though her sister should know the trappings required of the trade.

"Are they poison?" Aria suspiciously sniffed at the flowers.

Bethany quirked a brow. "You have gotten quite paranoid."

Aria closed the basket lid and ushered her little sister inside. Mother was sitting at the table writing on parchment with a beautiful ivory quill. Gamlen was gone, as per his usual this time of the evening. No doubt he was nose deep in cheap bosom.

"If you'll give me an hour, I'll have these transformed for you," Bethany offered, taking the basket from Aria.

"If you insist," Aria chuckled, pecking at the lacing of her armor to loosen it. Leandra looked up from the table then and smiled at her eldest.

"'Twould seem you've a lot of suitors as of late," the Hawke matriarch cajoled as Aria sat on the bench across from her.

Aria grunted in response and unlaced her boots. Leandra laughed softly to herself and continued penning. Bethany disappeared into the lavatory. Aria continued removing her armor, sighing heavily once the cool air hit her hot, very tired feet.

"What was that scuffle before you came inside?" Leandra asked once Aria had stripped to her underarmor, which consisted of close-fitting black leather trousers and a padded long-sleeved woven white shirt that laced from just beneath the start of her bosom all the way to the neck.

"Just some disgruntled drunk Kirkwallers," Aria replied.

"I do wish they'd give off it already," Leandra sniped, blowing on the ink to make it dry quicker. "You are just as much a Kirkwaller as they are."

Aria bit her tongue. No, she indeed wasn't a Kirkwaller. Her home was still in Ferelden and she wished she had another life there. She excused herself and went into the bedroom she shared with Bethany. She softly closed the door and clambered onto the top bunk.

What seemed but a moment later, Bethany was gently shaking her awake. Aria groggily sat up, mindful of the proximity of the rough-hewn beams just inches from her head. Bethany held up a bar of soap and Aria took it.

The scent was unlike anything she'd ever smelled before. It was beautiful, dark,cool, sweet, sad, and hopeful, all in one whiff. "Mmm, that is lovely."

"Isn't it? I must find where he got these flowers. I've never seen them before," Bethany chortled, huffing into her hands as though she were a drug addict.

Aria laughed. "He being whom?"

"I don't know. They were just left on the door step when I got home. I haven't drawn any attention as of late, but you have been calling it in droves. I surmised they were for you and upon discovering the contents of that basket, I knew what they were for."

The elder Hawke laughed again and shook her head. "I'll put on some water for a bath."

"Do hurry, I was hoping we could join our friends at the Hanged Man," Bethany bubbled. "You haven't done anything but work this past week and it would do you good to let your hair down. Literally and figuratively."

Aria entered the lavatory and found there was already steaming water in the tub, under a layer of thick, intoxicatingly scented foam. On the overturned bucket that served as a shower ledge, there were two new bottles; one shampoo and one cream rinse. Aria quickly undressed and immersed herself in this well-earned luxury. She begrudgingly hurried with her cleansing and donned her most recently acquired ensemble.

She had selected a light purple peasant blouse with black lacing on the bosom, her favorite pair of black doeskin leggings, and knee-high buff colored boots. Bethany did her hair with the pewter combs the mage had gifted her what seemed like eons ago. In truth, it had been but a few months.

The sisters left the house together and walked the short passage to the Hanged Man. It was unusually busy tonight. It appeared the templars had gotten reinforcements. As a result, Bethany ducked out after saying hello to their party members. Aria only found this out when Anders appeared at the door to Varric's room and told her.

When Aria made to leave, Fenris strode lithely in, a tray of tankards perched on his shoulder. Varric invited her to participate in Wicked Grace; she declined that offer but accepted the tankard Fenris offered her and took a seat on one of the newly added sofas near the hearth. The room now consisted of Fenris, Anders, Isabela, and Varric playing Wicked Grace, Norah the barmaid sleeping on Varric's bed, and Hawke observing from her perch on the sofa.

"Rivaini, stop looking at my chest. My eyes are up here," Varric said as he dealt the cards.

"But the chest hair..." Isabela crooned, leaning forward to better examine Varric's abundant fur. Aria watched the rogue's eyes dart at Varric's cards. Aria stifled a giggle by drinking deeply from her tankard.

"Do you know how much I suffer under your gaze? I am a person, not an object!" Varric replied, feigning hurt. He moved his cards out of her line of sight.

"Uh, Varric?" Isabela snidely asked, giving him the once over with her chamelon-esque hazel eyes.

Varric chuckled. "Just shittin' you."

Fenris shook his head at his hand and sighed almost imperceptibly. Isabela, reading the elf's tells, decided to try and fluster him further.

"I enjoy a man with markings like that," she cajoled, shooting him her most sultry gaze.

Fenris snorted, "You've enjoyed many, I suspect."

Anders and Varric both burst out laughing at this.

Unfazed, Isabela continued. "Where I come from, they're called tattoos. Sailors get them all the time."

"Not made of lyrium, I imagine," Fenris tersely replied, his eyes resting on Hawke for a few seconds too long. Aria could feel the blush creep into her cheeks and took another drink.

"Not a one," Isabela replied, winking at Aria. "And the pictures are different—usually breasts."

Varric and Anders nodded in agreement to the truth of that statement. Merrill appeared at the door then and Varric waved her in.

"I suppose a pair of lyrium breasts tattooed onto my chest would make things better," Fenris dryly stated, watching as Varric started the hand out.

"That's me. I'm a helper," Isabela chirped, playing out a card.

"You're going to help Fenris get lyrium breasts?" Merrill asked, aghast, as she seated herself next to Hawke. She had a tankard in her hand already.

Everyone but Fenris broke into laughter that woke Norah. She simply turned over and put a pillow over her head.

"Daisy, do you know a spell that could do that?" Varric asked. "I bet you could make a fortune selling lyrium breasts to the nobles."

"Why would anyone want them?" Merrill queried.

"We're joking, Daisy," Varric sweetly replied.

"You joke about funny things," Merrill laughed. Then hiccuped.

"Just how many of those have you had, sweet thing?" Isabela purred at the Dale.

Merrill looked down at the tankard in her hand worriedly. "Three?"

"She's hammered. Leave her alone," Anders good-naturedly chided, playing his card in the hand. It was higher than both Isabela's and Varric's. Isabela snorted and sat back in her chair at his play.

"You're no fun. I bet we would let you watch," Isabela said with a swivel of her hips in the chair.

Fenris laid down a card that beat all three of them. He swept the ante pile into his lap and led with the next card in his hand. It was higher than the previous.

"Power play, huh?" Varric laughed, putting his next card down, and losing again.

"For the love of..." Isabela snarled, throwing down another low card. Anders followed suit, smiling ruefully at Aria. Fenris took the hand again.

Aria watched them play for 3 more tankards, by the end of which, Merrill had curled up at the foot of Varric's bed and was out cold. Hawke was content to just watch and drink tonight. It was nice to just watch for once. To not be involved in the thick of it. To just enjoy the company of her friends-at-arms. Anders made his leave out the back entrance, seen to by Varric shortly after Aria ordered her fourth tankard. The mage warden had dutifully kept his eyes from Aria all night. Norah woke and went downstairs to assist with her tavern closing duties.

Varric put away the cards and joined Hawke on the sofa. Isabela went downstairs to the bar to seek less than savory action with anyone she fancied for the evening. Fenris sat on the other sofa, across from Varric and Hawke.

"So where's your beard, elf?" Varric chimed as they settled themselves.

"Elves don't grow beards," Fenris replied, with just a hint of befuddlement and a dash of sarcasm.

"Huh. I thought maybe you shaved it off in a fit of broody pique," Varric jibed good-naturedly.

Fenris took a sip of his tankard and leveled his gaze on the dwarf. "So you're a funny dwarf."

Aria couldn't help it. She burst with tinkling laughter. It always seemed the other had an even wittier comeback. It was something she enjoyed, this verbal tete a tete between friends.

"Hawke thinks so," Varric smoothly replied, elbowing Aria in the ribs.

Fenris looked at her, his emerald eyes alight with something she could not place, his face stoic. "Hawke can be a—questionable judge of character."

"Especially when it comes to her taste in men," Varric agreed, and he and Fenris toasted on that.

"Oh piss off," Aria giggled, the alcohol making her giddy. "I haven't had a man in...in..." She hiccuped. "Damn. I'm a cloistered sister."

Varric roared with laughter at this and Fenris was silent, his gaze growing slightly more intense as Hawke made the admission. It should have made her uncomfortable, the heat in the elf's gaze. But it didn't. It made her feel much more playful, much more... Alive.

"If you're a cloistered sister, I'm the King of Dwarves," Varric laughed.

"Says the dwarf whose lover is a dangerous inanimate object," Hawke threw back. She went to take a drink, but found the tankard was empty. With a look of absolute sorrow, she turned it upside down. When no liquid came out, she set the tankard on the coffee table in front of her. "I think that's nature's way of saying I should probably go home."

Varric stifled first a burp, then a yawn and nodded. "Yes, it's about that time."

Fenris drained the rest of the mead in his tankard and set it next to Hawke's. "Shall I escort you home?" he asked Aria, standing and offering her his hand.

She took the help and swayed slightly as she stood, leaning for a split second against the warrior elf before quickly recovering her balance. "I wouldn't mind company."

Varric shook his head. "You may have to carry her. She doesn't look all that steady."

"Yes well, with as low as your center of gravity is, I wouldn't expect you to understand how tall people balance works," Aria giggled. She covered her mouth and her tawny eyes grew wide.

"Like I said before, Hawke, if all you can jest about is my height, I must be quite alright," Varric replied with a saucy grin. He stood and hugged her before Fenris led her down the stairs and out the doors.

The wind that came off the harbour was light, fresh, and clean. The night was cloudy and looked as though it thought to rain soon. Aria was invigorated by the fresh air and did not wish to return home yet. Fenris went to turn her toward the street that led to Gamlen's hovel but she resisted.

"No, I don't think I'm quite ready to go back home," she groused as Fenris tugged her arm once more in the direction of home.

"No?" he quietly asked, stopping her so that he could look into her eyes. He had to look down slightly. Heavens he was tall for an elf, she thought for the hundredth time.

"Why do you look at me like that?" Hawke brazenly asked.

"Look at you like...what?" Fenris quizzically countered.

"I don't know. But it makes my insides get warm and—I'm definitely shutting up now. Can we walk through the gardens in Hightown before you take me home? I know Gamlen's there by now and I'm afraid I might kill him if he runs his mouth, as he is guaranteed to do."

He started leading her through the bazaar towards the Hightown steps. He loved it when she was brazen. He loved it when she let her guard down. Fenris found himself wishing he'd known her before the Blight. Before he'd been Danarius's slave. He tightened his hold on her just slightly at the thought.

"You're brooding," Hawke teased, returning the slight pressure on his arm.

"You said you were definitely shutting up now," he replied, looking over at her. A slight smile tugged up one corner of his lips.

"We can't both be broody. It upsets the balance of nature," Hawke candidly replied, giggling.

They reached the top of the steps and sprinkles of rain started to fall, bouncing off the stones. Slight mist rose from the streets, the cool of the night taking the last heat of the day.

"It's going to rain," Fenris said simply, staring up at the black sky. A few droplets hit his face and slid down his lyrium tattoos on his neck.

Hawke couldn't stop her hand from gently tracing the rivulets along their silvery paths until her fingers encountered the armor at his chest. She realized he'd held his breath.

"Let it rain," she softly replied, looking back up into his wondrous, vibrant green eyes.

"You are...such a strange woman," Fenris said after a moment, his hand covering hers where it had stopped on his chest.

"Thanks, I think," Aria laughed, gently removing her hand. She looked across the courtyard, which was empty of merchants for the time. Then she looked back at Fenris, her ochre eyes bright with mischief. "Catch me if you can."

Aria bolted then, as fast as her legs would carry her. She darted across the courtyard, up the steps towards the Hightown mansions, then clambered up the vines of the garden walls. She ran across the top of the wall, just as the rain began to come down in torrents. Fenris ran beside the wall, yelling at her to slow down.

From up here, she could see all of Kirkwall. It was stunning, shining in the night, all the stone wet and looking like it was made from lacquered onyx. She stumbled and launched herself off the wall. It felt like she fell for an eternity before she landed safely in Fenris's steely arms.

He was breathing hard. She could see the thrum of his pulse in his neck throbbing frenetically. A fine trembling shook his arms as he held her.

"You're shaking," Aria said simply, reaching up to touch his cheek.

"You could have died!" Fenris hoarsely whispered, rainwater falling in silvery rivers off his hair and face, further soaking her already drenched blouse.

"I was trying to learn how to fly. And in the end, I was caught by a most loyal friend," she replied, keenly aware of the heat radiating off him.

He contemplated this silently, no doubt thinking back to Flemeth's words. He turned his head slowly to nudge Aria's palm with his nose. She trembled at the heat of his breath on her fingers, then timidly traced his lips.

"Aria," he sighed. "We can't do this now, or here."

Just like that the magic she'd experienced the past hour come filtering down like ashes falling on a gentle breeze. He gently stood her up, his eyes flitting to her lips every few blinks. Fenris still embraced her once she was fully upright, one arm curved around her waist, the other around her shoulders.

"You're going to be the death of me," Fenris whispered. He touched his lips to her forehead.

Aria was speechless. Her drunken senses were in overdrive and her inebriated mind couldn't keep up with the barrage of information, her body fatiguing quickly under the adrenaline dump. She let him lead her home, keeping her tucked close to his body as they walked. Every few minutes, his lyrium brandings flared for a few seconds. It showered her in delicious warmth.

Fenris watched her run up the steps to the rickety old door on Gamlen's hovel. She paused just before opening the door to look back at him. They stood there for a couple moments, having a conversation with just their eyes. His mouth quirked slightly the way it did when he was tempted to smile. He bowed deeply, then strode off with a wave.

Aria darted inside where it was cool compared to the heat of Fenris's body. She shivered and started to undress.

"Lovers dance in the rain," Gamlen grumbled drunkenly from his stool.

Aria gagged and tugged her shirt back down, settling instead for the moment to wring the water from it by hand. "Lovers?"

"You must be drunk."

"Pot, meet kettle. Kettle, meet pot," Aria snarked, tromping into the bedroom she and Bethany shared.


	17. Chapter SIXTEEN

**Chapter 16**

_**A/N:** I was listening to OneRepublic's "Light It Up" when I started this chapter. I wanted to deviate from the story in a wild fashion here, just giving one more episode to Act I before we reach the Deep Roads. This chapter takes place on a very special day, one to which our heroine is absolutely oblivious. Lots of Fenris action as requested. I'll update as soon as I am able; real life got kinda crazy and I'm tying up loose ends. Thanks for the reviews and thank you for reading my version of the story. As always, credit goes to BioWare for the magnificent characters involved!_

Aria stopped at the top of the steps that led from Hightown into the Lowtown bazaar. She collected her weekly share money from Hubert, who had thrown in 2 extra gold coins. Aria tried to give it back, but Hubert insisted she keep it as a gift. Generosity was not one of Hubert's defining traits. Aria kept it, in the end. She had a pleasant surprise for Varric, now.

She was coming from informing Aveline of the conclusion of her investigation of templars-turned-thrall reports that had seeped in, as well as an investigation into some allegedly connected kidnappings and murders. Aria hated spending so much time in the Gallows, and she knew that Emeric, Thrask, and Cullen—the templars with whom she'd spent much time assisting-were aware of the company she kept. She just hoped they wouldn't act on that knowledge in light of the help she'd given them with their issues.

Aria lightly bounded down the steps to Lowtown, stopping to talk to Lady Elegant for a few minutes. Elegant gifted Hawke one of her finest perfumes and a recipe for a healing potion. She was beginning to wonder if she hadn't stepped into an alternate reality. The dwarven smith in Lowtown's bustling marketplace also gifted Aria a new set of gauntlets that enhanced her dexterity a sizable degree. The jeweler gifted her with a ring that surged with healing energy. And when she reached the doorstep at Gamlen's, there were two bouquets of some of the most beautiful flowers she'd ever seen, a bottle of extremely fine wine, and a parcel, tied up with a deep crimson ribbon.

"What in the Maker's name..." Aria said, stooping to gather the items in her arms. She pushed open the door and deposited the odd items on the table. No one was home, as was normal for this time of day.

It was early in the evening. The sun was creeping ever faster towards the horizon. In three hours, it would be dusk. She'd been up since dawn running errands, catching up with friends, and tying up loose ends. She was thoroughly exhausted, but Bethany insisted Aria come to the Hanged Man with her this evening.

Aria threw herself onto Bethany's bunk, not wanting to make the climb to her own. Bethany's bed was always softer somehow. She fell straight asleep and didn't wake again until it was nearly dark, and the door to the hovel was enthusiastically opened.

"Is Aria here?" she heard Bethany ask her mother, who was apparently much quieter with her entrance.

"Shhh! She's asleep," Leandra hushed Bethany.

"Asleep?! Sweet blood of Andraste, why is she asleep?"

Aria heard footsteps quickly approach the door, which stood slightly ajar. She sat up and stretched her shoulder. Bethany strode in, her dark eyes flashing.

"You promised!" she said, helping Aria to her feet.

"It's still early yet," Aria said with a yawn. "We have time."

"Only because I knew you'd pass out as soon as you got home," Bethany replied, playfully thumping Aria on the shoulder.

"It's been a long—and strange—day," Aria laughed, rubbing the back of her neck uncomfortably.

Bethany quirked a brow. "You really don't know what day it is?"

"Um...Wicked Grace is tomorrow night, not tonight," Aria answered. "C'mon. You can buy me a pint, since everyone's so generous today."

Leandra's laughter followed them down the stairs as they departed.

"Am I still asleep?" Aria asked when they turned down the alley that led to Varric's current residence.

Bethany giggled in response and only quickened her pace. Aria trotted to keep up and followed her sister through the bar, up the stairs, and to Varric's closed door. That was odd. Varric never closed his door. Bethany knocked and the door was promptly opened.

Varric's room was decorated in silver and dark lilac ribbons, Aria's favorite colors. A feast was laid out upon his enormous table where they played Wicked Grace and held party meetings regarding whatever plight they'd gotten into. Many people were present. Varric, Merrill, Isabela, Anders, Aveline, Hubert, a few of the mine leaders, Lord and Lady Elegant, and Gamlen stood around the end of the table.

"Happy birthday, Hawke!" Varric said, throwing his arms wide to encompass the group. Most of them cheered. Everyone had a drink in hand.

Aria turned to Bethany, her expression completely dumbstruck as she said, "You know you haven't gotten near enough sleep when you forget your own birthday."

Everyone laughed at this, and Bethany ushered the guest of honor to her place at the right of the host's seat at the head of the table. They all sat down and delved into the delicious meal set before them. Aria knew by the quality that it was **not** food from the tavern's kitchen. It was a meal fit for a cheeky Hightown noble.

There was roasted turkey, pheasant, and lamb abed hearts of romaine and spinach. There was grilled asparagus, garlic mashed potatoes, and steamed broccoli. There were several breads, with cinnamon butter and honey drizzled over their tops. Aria was especially fond of the deep fried mozarella balls and the sweet, wonderful blackberry sangria Varric gifted her at the start of the meal.

Varric regaled them with artfully embellished re-tellings of their many adventures while they ate and drank. A certain elven warrior's absence was something she felt as the night wore on. If Varric had been in charge of this surprise party, as he surely was, she had no doubts Varric would have issued an invitation to Fenris. Aveline was the first to leave as soon as the dessert was cleared, as she needed to be up early the next morning to file reports. The miners soon followed, along with Hubert, who walked with Lady Elegant and her Lord husband.

Soon, it was only Varric, Isabela, Bethany, Anders, Merrill and Hawke left in Varric's chambers. They had situated themselves on the sofas near the hearth, listening to Varric and Anders share battle stories. Merrill would interject with questions and Isabel shared a few tales of her own. Aria just listened, basking in the warmth of the wine and ale in her belly and in that of the hearth.

It had been over a fortnight since they'd had a gathering like this, where most of them were present and could just enjoy each others' company. They'd all been so busy, mostly in gaining the coin to prepare for the expedition. Hawke had often contemplated who she would take into the Deep Roads, when they did furnish the coin. She could only realistically choose two, as that was all their provisions allowed.

She couldn't take Bethany. Hawke had made as many enemies as she had friends. Leaving her mother defenseless was not an option. She feared for her sister's safety from the prison-like Kirkwall circle, however it would be a far kinder fate than Aria's if she came back sans little sister.

She needed a mage, though. Merrill's talents in battle were brutally efficient, but Anders was a healer and had been in the Deep Roads before. He was the obvious choice to fill that role. Varric would be the ranged attacker. She needed brute strength and boundless energy reserves. She needed... Aria's eyes widened and her smile was painfully wide as she met the verdant gaze of which she was extremely fond.

"I am sorry I am late," Fenris said, clearing his throat as he entered. He looked for a brief moment at Varric, nodded, and returned his gaze to Aria.

"That's alright, Fenris," Bethany chimed, "She didn't even remember."

Hawke blushed at this and tapped her boot against Bethany's in a spiteful gesture.

Fenris nodded at this, "I don't even know when mine is. I think it could be quite easy to forget, in the grand scheme of things." He sat next to Hawke on the sofa, the side of his hip bumping hers in the process.

Anders stood then, his increasingly common, painfully stoic demeanor returning. He offered to escort Merrill home and she drunkenly accepted. Anders hugged Aria and wished her a happy birthday again before he departed, his expression briefly adoring. He departed with Merrill on his arm, turning back once to offer her a sad smile before they disappeared down the stairs.

Hawke was keenly aware of the heat radiating off of Fenris's body. He was always so warm, it was hard not to be drawn to him. She relaxed a little at his proximity, and took a long draw from her wine glass, freshly filled by Varric.

"May I?" Fenris asked, indicating her glass.

She handed him the glass without hesitation. His eyes stayed on hers as he tipped the glass against his lips. He closed them to savor the sweet, tart, dark flavor of the wine on his palette. Fenris handed her the glass and nodded appreciatively.

"Fruity, sweet, slightly smoky—oak, I think," Fenris said after a moment. "I'm going to guess 60 years old?"

Varric coughed. "You've had it before, I trust?"

"Not exactly. This is much sweeter. Is this Antivan?" Fenris countered.

"Indeed it is," Varric replied, grabbing the bottle off the table and handing it over to Fenris. The elf surveyed the carefully labeled vessel, his expression somber.

"It was a favorite of mine. May I have a glass?" The question was issued to Hawke, who had lost herself in his eyes again.

"O-of course," Aria stammered, then regained her composure. "You've shared several bottles with me."

Varric poured it for Fenris, and took another glass for himself. Hawke indicated that Isabela and Bethany receive glasses as well, which Varric was all too happy to pour. They silently enjoyed the wine for a few moments, the hearth crackling merrily and a drowsy feeling of comfort permeated the very air.

"When will this expedition finally take place?" Isabela asked finally.

Hawke groaned at this and leaned back to pinch the bridge of her nose between her thumb and middle finger. Bethany twirled her staff between her hands and looked expectantly at her sister.

"Varric?" Aria deferred.

"We need 2 more gold pieces."

"We can make that in a few days," Fenris smoothly stated, looking from Aria to Varric. His arm laid across the back of the sofa, just touching her shoulders.

"Indeed we can," Varric replied, his gaze expectant against Hawke's.

Aria sighed. "We could leave tomorrow, actually."

She put a bag of coins on the table. She'd been keeping it on her belt everywhere she went now, instead of tucked away. Gamlen had been snooping lately and the last thing she needed was for him to gamble away her fortune a second time.

"What is this?" Varric asked, picking the bag up. He weighed it carefully in his hand, his eyes going wide at first, then narrowing on Hawke. "I knew you were squirreling away more somewhere."

"You have two full shares from me, then," Aria candidly replied. She sat back a little more, so that Fenris's arm slipped down to land fully across her shoulders. She pretended not to notice, as did he. Isabela chuckled from the sofa opposite them.

"Well played, Hawke," Varric said in awe. He poured the contents of the bag onto the table, smoothing the sovereigns out with the palms of his hands. "I'll need a week to get everyone rounded up and purchases made."

"Who are you taking?" Fenris quietly asked her.

"Me of course," Bethany said, matter-of-factly. "Anders hates the Deep Roads."

Aria groaned at this and placed her head in her hands.

"Sister?" Bethany asked, voice quavering. "I'm still going, right?"

Aria stood then and collected her coins back into the bag. She placed the bag on top of Varric's money chest. Then she looked to all of them. "I'll know by the end of the week. Everyone who wants to go will meet up with us at dawn at the Merchant's Guild seven days from now. You'll be told then whether or not you're going." She drank the last of the wine in her glass, Fenris mimicking her as he stood.

"It is getting late, isn't it?" Isabela asked, checking the clock above the mantle. It was nearly 2 a.m. "I think I'll take my leave. Happy birthday, Hawke." The pirate hugged the other rogue and waved her goodbye to the collective before bounding down the stairs.

"She's not going to bed yet," Bethany smirked as Isabela's head disappeared.

"Nope," Varric said, draining his glass in the same fashion as his companions. "She has to find a pillow."

"I hear she prefers furry ones," Fenris quipped, his arm sliding through Hawke's. The movement felt so natural.

Varric laughed, along with Bethany. Bethany decided she wanted to stay with Varric for a little while longer to discuss details about the expedition. Fenris offered to walk Aria home, which was more a formality. His intent was a given, to which everyone was privy.

Aria bade them good night, and Fenris led her down the stairs. They walked silently, at a leisurely, very close pace. Aria thought back to a few weeks ago, on a night with similar circumstances. No rainclouds were in sight, this time however. The moon was a finger-nail thick crescent in the sky. The stars were much more visible in the increased darkness, lending their own light more readily.

"Did you enjoy yourself today?" Fenris politely asked as they both bounded nimbly off the doorstep of the Hanged Man.

Laughter bubbled from Aria's throat. "Indeed I did!" She leaned against him more, savoring his warmth. It added new depth to her state of drunkenness.

"Even though you forgot it was your birthday?" he chided, a slight chuckle lacing the undertone of his voice.

"I think the fact that I forgot made it better than it would have been had I known," she replied.

"How so?" he asked.

She realized they weren't walking toward the hovel she called home. They were headed for the rocky lookout where she often had the party meet before departing on one of their many journeys. It didn't bother her that he was leading her there. She didn't much feel like going home. She hated the place.

"Just for the day, I thought I lived in paradise."

He was silent, his brows creasing together for a moment as he pondered this. Aria decided to continue.

"Everyone was nice to me. I didn't feel like I was going to have to dodge a dagger to the back all day. The fact that I was showered with gifts might have had an impact on my perspective as well," she said on a laugh.

"Yes, I can see how that might color your perception," he agreed, the hint of laughter that only she ever got to hear flavoring his beautiful voice. "Speaking of gifts," he continued, bringing her slightly closer to him, "Did you open all of yours?"

Aria had to think a moment. "There were some left on my doorstep that I hadn't gotten the chance to open. I was so tired when I got home earlier, I had to take a nap."

"You seem to require a lot of sleep," Fenris teased.

She thumped him playfully on the shoulder and he softly chuckled. "There was a parcel I hadn't opened yet."

"What did it look like?" he asked, stopping at the edge of the trail that ran adjacent to the coast. Together they climbed up the small berm that lined the well-worn path.

Aria followed him to the edge and they sat with their feet hanging off, dangling them childishly. It was difficult to tell where the water began and the sky ended, for the two horizons mirrored each other. It gave them a small taste of what infinity was all about.

"It was a white parcel. With a red ribbon," Aria finally answered him as they got settled. "We're up here...why?"

Fenris pointed to the sky. "In about fifteen minutes, there will be a meteor shower of grand scale."

Aria looked up and watched the sky for a moment. "How do you know that?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Fenris quietly said, as though the words themselves tasted foul.

"Try me," Aria challenged, leaning closer to him to bump his shoulder with hers.

"Anders was talking about it a few days ago. That's where I learned it from," he nearly whispered, his gaze lifted skyward.

"Ah, I see," she replied, her own eyes drifting to the heavens.

They watched the stars in silence for what seemed like eternity. Aria scrambled for something to say. She didn't want this night to be about the relationship that wouldn't sort itself completely out. She wanted to be happy. She wanted to be loved. She wanted to disappear in a fog of bliss with this most unlikely soul mate who sat next to her now.

"Why did you ask about the parcel?" Aria finally blurted.

Fenris turned to look at her and he combed his fingers through the fall of her hair that hung down her shoulder, over her chest, and nearly to her waist. His eyes followed his fingers, all the way to the end of the slightly curling river of her hair. His gaze found hers a second later.

"Because I had hoped you opened it," he answered, his voice soft and deep, stained quietly with dots of hurt-colored ink.

Aria chuckled and rested her head on his shoulder. "I wish I had too. What is it?"

"You'll just have to open it and find out," he hedged.

A blaze of light lit the sky for a split second then, bathing them briefly in its brilliant light. They both sharply shifted their attention to the heavens. A few seconds later, they watched as a star fell, disappearing just before the treed horizon towards the mountains. Aria gasped as an even brighter one slipped through the deep bluish-black sky, where it disappeared somewhere out to sea.

The spectacle of falling stars quickly crescendoed to a miraculous display of sparkling matter falling all around, tens of them falling at once. This continued for nearly 20 minutes before it started to taper off. Nearly forty-five minutes passed before the last of the meteors blazed across the sky.

Aria and Fenris had sat in wonder the entire time. She was enchanted by the celestial display, almost feeling it down to her soul. Such beauty and inexplicable power was a sight to behold. She realized then, as the last star evaporated just over the bay, that Fenris held her nearly in his lap. His arms were folded somewhat firmly around her shoulders and his chin rested on top of her head. She hadn't remembered moving like this and it was quite the pleasant surprise.

"It is very late," Fenris whispered.

"I think it's beyond late to the point where some may consider it terribly early instead," Aria replied with a yawn.

"The cup is always full for you," he sarcastically, though sweetly, replied.

A twig snapping brought Aria's senses to full alert. Her hands instinctively went for her daggers... Which weren't there. Fenris drew his sword (thankfully HE'D had his wits about him) and they scanned the direction from which the sound had come. It was off to Aria's right, where the slight embankment separated them from prying eyes on the road.

"Someone's breathing heavily," Fenris whispered next to her ear.

She nodded as she heard it too. Someone was definitely coming. Up here, at this time of the night, only one conclusion could be reached. Whatever it was, it was definitely trouble.


	18. Chapter SEVENTEEN

_A/N: I'm going to be taking this story off canon a little bit from now on. This is where the relationships will deepen and the dangers will multiply exponentially. Thank you for the kind reviews. Yes, my Fenris is more brazen. He's a free elf now and he's battle-tested. Why shouldn't he be one to speak up? :) This chapter is a little short, but I promise there will be much lengthier ones in the future! Happy reading!_**  
**

**Chapter 17**

Fenris pulled Aria down into some low bushes and they watched to see who was on such rapid approach. The footfalls and heavy breathing continued up the road past them and soon were out of earshot. Just as they made to rise, however, the footfalls of what sounded like an entire garrison approached.

Surely enough, someone barked orders to make haste. Aria flattened herself on the ground, but a second later, Fenris yanked on her arm. They stood and he motioned for her to follow him. They silently went back to the cliff's edge. Fenris sat down and Aria did the same. He sheathed his sword and turned his head to listen as the garrison thundered past.

"You there! Stand and stay any weapons you may possess!" a rough voice called from behind them.

They stood and turned; Aria carefully put a look of surprise on her face. Three templars approached them. They wore full armour and two of them had their swords drawn. The third hung back a few paces with a crossbow nocked and ready to fire at them.

"Who are you?" the foremost templar asked, lowering his sword.

"I am Aria Hawke and my friend here is Fenris. Forgive me for asking, sers, but what's this all about?" Hawke responded.

"Hawke! By the Maker, what are you doing up here so late?" the front guard asked.

"I had a few too many celebrating my birthday and my companion escorted me here so that I may sober up and watch the spectacle of falling stars," Aria replied. "What's the commotion?"

"A mage has escaped the circle. He was accused of consorting with demons. Have you seen him?" the second closest templar said.

"The mage you seek was headed up the mountain trail. We only heard his footfalls," Fenris cut in.

"I wasn't talking to you elf," the second templar said with disdain. "Is what he says true?"

Aria bristled at the blatant display of disrespect and took a step forward. "As my reputation apparently precedes me, I must ask that you apologize to my companion. He is your ally; no one abhors mages more than this elf."

The second templar bristled visibly at this, but the first thumped him on the shoulder. He cleared his throat and said, "My apologies ser," and nodded at Fenris. Then he turned back to Aria. "Hawke, is what he said true? Did the mage continue up the mountain road?"

Aria nodded, though she felt very much the traitor for having done so. "It is. We did not see him, ser. However we heard footfalls hasten up the road shortly before you arrived."

"Thank you," the first templar said, motioning for the others to follow as they ran to catch up to their garrison.

They waited until the sounds of clanking armor and running foot steps was well gone before they started back down the mountain trail towards the city. Hawke silently fumed at herself. That could have been Bethany running away and she just sold out her own sister. For what? Fear? Self-preservation?

"You are ever a mystery to me," Fenris said after they'd made it halfway back.

Aria sighed. "Why is that?"

"You seek emancipation from the circle for all mages and yet..."

"And yet I help the templars."

"Precisely."

"Fenris, my sister is a mage. You know this."

"And you were in love with a mage," he whispered.

Aria stopped dead in her tracks and rounded on him. "I don't expect you to understand. How can you? You've only known those hungry for power and felt the lash of the whip from it. Who I'm in love with or not is none of your concern."

She ran then. She called every ounce of stamina and strength within her and just ran. Aria knew her parting words had hurt him. Yes, he did indeed have the right to know who she had feelings for, as for this very moment, she would have done anything for that handsome, vicious, peculiar elf.

She ascended the steps to Gamlen's hovel by the time her wits came back to her and she realized that tears streamed down her cheeks. She angrily swiped them away and turned to the east where the sun was rising now. Her birthday was over and the real world had come back to bite her in the ass. Aria didn't go to bed when she got home. She was too angry. Too ill at ease. Her stomach roiled and her mind raced. She set about to cleaning, careful to be as quiet as a church mouse while she swept, dusted, scrubbed, and organized everything in the common area of the tiny house. She set the bouquets of flowers on the tables where she and Bethany did their crafting and stowed the rest of the gifts in her locked trunk. She stopped when her hands encountered the unopened parcel that surely had been Fenris's gift to her.

Aria carefully unwrapped it. When she held the gift up in the firelight to get a better look, she heard a gasp from the door of her bedroom. Bethany stood there, her eyes on the item in Aria's hands.

It was a beautiful, simple dress made of a somewhat iridescent shade of kelly green. The fitted bodice was lined up the left side with lilac hued lace and the pattern continued over the seams of the off-shoulder sleeves. It laced in the back. The skirt was formfitting and had a slight train. Up the right side of the skirt was a slit that would climb to about Aria's mid-thigh were she to put it on.

"Who gave that to you?" Bethany sleepily asked, running her fingers over the soft, somewhat shiny fabric. Her hair was a mess and Aria could still smell the wine on her breath.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Aria quietly answered, running her fingers over the intricate lace designs on the bodice of the dress. The lace formed little tendrils, caricatures of wispy, trailing vines that curled gracefully around the left side of the bodice and just over the hip.

"Anders?"

Aria winced at the name and shook her head slowly.

"Varric?"

"Fenris," Aria softly replied, knowing Bethany would go through every name of every person Aria knew before she would reach the elf's.

Bethany's eyes flew wide. "Fenris? But how... Nevermind. I don't want to know." She took a moment to look about the common room then looked back at her sister, her expression sad and troubled. "You have not been to bed yet, have you?"

Aria sighed. "I've been wrestling inner demons."

"Wrestling demons? Without me?" Bethany chided, hugging her sister before taking the dress from her. She folded it carefully and placed it in the chest.

"It's not funny. A mage may have been tranquilized last night, and I helped them find him."

"What are you talking about?" Bethany asked, aghast.

"Fenris took me up to the Point and we watched stars fall from the heavens. It was beautiful. But then, we heard what sounded like some poor fool running for his life. Before we could really make a decision to investigate, an entire unit of templars showed up."

The color had drained from Bethany's face and she looked as if she might be ill. "You helped them hunt him?"

"No!" Aria shot back defensively, a little more sharply than she had intended. "We simply said we heard someone running up the mountain trail and they followed what we said."

"What crime had the mage committed? Did they say?" Bethany queried nervously.

Aria shook her head. "What they always say. How are we supposed to know when they're telling the truth?"

"Maybe they were. Maybe it was a blood mage," Bethany offered.

"It would explain why they sent an entire garrison," Aria agreed.

"Did they know who you were?"

"Yes, and I had to rebuff one of them for being condescending to Fenris."

"You love him."

Aria didn't respond to that, she only busied herself with the task of dumping the dirty water in her cleaning bucket outside. The sun had climbed fairly high in the sky. She could hear the calls of the shopkeepers as they began business for the day. She took a few moments to just center herself and calm the raw nerves before going back inside.

"You know, there's no shame in it," Bethany continued when Aria returned, stoking the dying fire in the hearth. She tossed on a few more logs before she regarded her sister with a look of earnestness.

"I'm not ashamed. I don't know if it's love. Infatuation, yes. Chemistry, yes. But love? Love is something...much more profound, much more intricate, much more...more...more..." She twirled her finger in the air, as if it would help her mind jolt itself into finishing that sentence.

"Just much more," Bethany finished for her addled sister.

"Yes," Aria replied, nodding almost frantically. "No," she amended, shaking her head vehemently. "I don't... I don't know," she said helplessly, sitting down on the floor cross-legged. She snatched one of her daggers off the workbench and began to whet the blade, smoothing dings and notches that had been made in their last use.

Bethany sat beside her and combed her fingers through her hair to straighten it somewhat while she watched her elder sister work. "You're not going to take Isabela into the Deep Roads, are you?"

Aria had to laugh at this. "Absolutely not. The darkspawn don't want to be seduced or screwed. They want to kill."

"Aria!" Bethany exclaimed in bemusement.

"Well?" Aria challenged. "They don't."

"She'd probably take that as a challenge."

"I think you're right," Aria replied.

"I know you don't want me to go," Bethany quietly stated. "But I want to. I want to take out as many of those blighters as humanly possible for what they did to Carver and our home."

Aria sighed. "Bethany, this isn't about revenge. And if you die down there, well I daren't even return home. Mother would kill me on sight. That'd be two siblings I'd let down and that's just...beyond unacceptable."

"Carver's death wasn't your fault. I wish that... I wish that we knew then what we know now. Maybe things would have been different."

"Good morning, darlings!" Leandra's sing song voice greeted their ears then. "Up so early! Or is it the other way around?"

Aria and Bethany stood to embrace their matriarch then settled around the small, rough-hewn table that served for their dining pleasure. Bethany poured them all glasses of water from the pitcher. Leandra broke off pieces of fresh bread and bits of cheese for their breakfast.

"Did you finally realize what day it was?" Leandra chided once they'd tucked in to their meal.

Aria blushed. "Yes."

"She was teased awfully about it last night," Bethany defended, laughing.

"Knowing your cohorts, I don't doubt it," Leandra said in response. She regarded the bouquets on the table with a sad smile. "I miss the days of being young and hale."

"I'll be glad when they're over," Aria half-joked.

"Well then, you'd better find a husband of good station. I'm sure many of the Hightown bachelors would be all too happy-"

Bethany burst into a fit of giggles at this and Aria lightly kicked her under the table. Leandra looked from one to the other.

"Did I miss some secret?" Leandra asked mischievously. "Did someone propose already?"

Aria nearly squealed at the stab that sent to her already damaged ego. "No!"

Bethany giggled and shook her head, taking an oversized bite of bread to keep herself quiet.

"Oh. Good. I was only joking," Leandra laughed.

"Can't you biddies give a weary old man just a **little** peace and quiet?!" Gamlen shouted then from his room.

Aria threw her dagger at the door to his room, making sure that the pommel hit the door instead of her freshly sharpened bladed. It made a terribly loud thud when it hit, and was even louder still when it clattered to the floor. She stood to fetch it and met Gamlen as he whipped open the door. He saw the dagger laying on the floor and watched, wide-eyed, as Aria picked it back up and sheathed it.

"Did you just throw **that** at my door?!"

Aria twirled the dagger tip on her index finger while spinning it with her other hand. She gave him her most devilish glare and he threw up his hands in exasperation.

"Heathens, Leandra! You raised bloody heathens!" he yelled, snatching his coat off the hook by the front door and blustering outside into the day. He slammed the door so hard that the bouquets wobbled.

"I'm proud of my heathens," Leandra said to the closed door. "And my heathens should be off to bed. I've half a mind to keep you awake all day to teach you a lesson—but I know how hard you work. Off to bed, little doves, so you can make use of the rest of the day whence you wake."

"I am well rested, mother. Did you need someone to accompany you to market?" Bethany chirped.

"That would be lovely," Leandra replied, looking to her exhausted eldest. "Bed, young lady. I suspect you've had a rough evening."

Aria sighed, stood languorously, then stretched. She covered a yawn with the back of her hand. "Have fun," she said simply, kissing her mother's, then her sister's head before she trudged wearily into the tiny hole they called a bed room. "A rough evening indeed," she whispered as she lay her head down on the thin pillow. "And that's just the beginning I fear."


	19. Chapter EIGHTEEN

_A/N: Because I couldn't sleep and already had most of this scene concocted already, you lucky lovelies get a second chapter this week. Things between Fenris and Hawke are going to get a lot...hotter. But it's a slow burn. :) Enjoy!_

**Chapter 18**

Aria sat on the bluffs overlooking the bay that led into Kirkwall's famed gloomy harbour. She watched the blood-red water mirror the sky as dawn gently broke night's cloaked hold on the land. The gulls sang their raucous songs as they circled the fishing boats leaving for the day's catch. She continued whetting the blade of her favorite dagger, though it didn't really need it. The blade was keen enough to split the hair on a spider's ass.

The clocktower in Hightown chimed five times then, renting the still, quiet dawn air with its doleful melody. She stood and cast one last longing gaze towards Ferelden before she sheathed her dagger, adjusted her accoutrements, then sprinted back towards town.

As she entered the already bustling merchant's guild in the dwarven section of the ancient city, Aria saw that all of her friends-at-arms were already there. Bethany waved her over, her eyes bright with worry.

"Where were you all night? We were beginning to fear the worst," Aria's little sister quietly said as the two siblings strode arm-in-arm up to the waiting expedition.

"Thinking," Aria tersely replied. She motioned for her friends to circle 'round and they were interrupted by Bartrand.

The skeevy, dastardly elder brother of Varric gave a speech to his men, but was interrupted by the arrival of the Hawke matriarch. Aria and Bethany took her aside. This was the choice Aria dreaded most to make. She would have to face Bethany's ire—and pissing off a rather powerful mage was never a good idea. Even if that mage was kin.

"You I understand wanting to go. But your sister?" Leandra pleaded as soon as they were out of earshot of the rest of the people present for the expedition.

"Mother, Bethany is staying," Aria wearily said.

Bethany was silent a moment then hugged her big sister. "Be careful, sister," she said when she pulled away, tears in her large, doe-like brown eyes.

"Always," Aria replied, her normally charismatic demeanor replaced with one of seriousness.

Aria watched them leave the square quickly, so as not to draw any more attention to themselves. Aveline strode up then and only nodded at Aria before heading off in the direction of the Viscount's seat. The rest of the party gathered around Aria while Varric hammered out last minute details with his brother.

"Who are you taking?" Isabela asked, twirling her dagger in much the same way Aria did when she was nervous. Aria knew the rogue pirate captain did not want to go.

Aria looked at all of them in turn. Merrill was bouncing on the balls of her feet like a little school girl waiting for someone to pick her for their team in Red Rover. Fenris actually smiled. Anders looked haunted, as usual.

"Isabela, Merrill, you can return home. I do ask that you keep an eye out for my mother and sister while I'm away," Aria said at length, her words doing nothing to hide the weariness from which she suffered. It'd been two days since she'd last slept.

"Thank the Maker," Isabela gushed. She'd been holding her breath. She grabbed Merrill's arm before the Dalish blood mage could protest and all but dragged her back towards Lowtown.

Aria silently walked over to Bartrand and Varric, Anders and Fenris in tow.

"Family drama settled?" Bartrand quipped as they walked up.

Aria just nodded and they set out. She followed behind Varric and Bartrand, lost in her own thoughts. She knew leaving Bethany was the right thing to do. She hated the fact that she needed Anders in the Deep Roads, when he loathed them so. Fenris was wound tighter than an 8 day clock, but was silent. She could feel him watching her.

The past week Aria had avoided everyone, with the exception of Merrill. They had broached the topic of Merrill's tattoos and the ink that the Dalish used to create them, which led to a drunken spur-of-the-moment decision to become one of the people. Aria let Merrill brand her with a blood red hawk tattoo that spanned the entire width of her shoulders. It was a secret she hoped the elf would keep.

Beyond all that, Aria had spent her days wandering outside the city at the base of the mountains and along the Wounded Coast, conducting her own patrols and just thinking. Always thinking. This was what she had worked so hard to do. This was the job that was going to put everything right. And in the very least, she'd die trying.

They made camp that night within earshot of a waterfall. The land was foreign, but still felt the same. The trees here were just as tall, the rocks the same color, the dirt on the rutted paths they trod smelled the same as it did anywhere else in Kirkwall. It felt just like any other foray she'd ever made. It gave her some comfort. She'd lived this long, hadn't she?

The dwarves and humans of the expedition set up their small tents and lit a few cookfires. A few of them went out to hunt and scout the area for any imminent danger. Aria scouted the river and took with her a net to catch some of the abundant river trout. She found the waterfall and committed the location to memory. When she bathed this evening, she fully intended to use the natural shower here.

After she'd caught nearly twenty large fish, Aria returned to camp. The dwarven cooks set to work immediately on the fish, adding them to the bounty of deer and pheasant other hunters had brought. Aria set up her own small tent next to Varric and Bartrand's, then fetched her bathing implements. Not wanting to be interrupted, she stealthily set off for the falls again, running barefoot most of the way so as not to be followed. She was quite fleet of foot and the past two years of endless traveling and fighting had given her endurance beyond imagining.

She stripped quickly, settled her items on a flat rock next to the spray, and stood under the water, letting it wash away all her stress and worries. She didn't care that it was cold. She needed to feel something other than the mind-numbing worry that nagged her constantly anymore.

"Sod it. Where'd she run off to now?" Varric sleepily asked as Anders woke him with the news that Aria was gone. Varric had taken the liberty of getting a quick nap before dinner.

"She walked down to the river about an hour ago," Fenris answered the dwarf from his perch next to the cooking fire.

The sun was just beginning to set in the west, the signs of night fettering the horizon with fingers of red, purple, and gold. Anders and Varric joined him, each pulling up large hunks of firewood they'd taken from the forest to sit upon.

"She spends more time in the water than most fish," Anders sourly stated, kicking a small rock into the center of the fire. One of the dwarves sitting across from the fire glowered at him.

They all watched as a small, bright plume of sparks erupted, momentarily showering the spit with its heat. The brace of venison, trout, and wild vegetables sizzled and crackled as a result and Fenris turned slowly to glance at the mage.

"In Tevinter, it is custom to bathe daily. I suppose that's why it smells better there," the elf deadpanned without looking towards the mage again.

Varric chuckled low in his chest. "Blondie smells ok. If you don't mind the spirit stench."

"For the love of Andraste, dwarf. Spirits don't smell!" Anders replied in irritation. He stood and glared at his companions. "She's been gone an hour. I'm going to make sure she's ok."

"If she's bathing, she'll require privacy. Wait a little longer, Blondie. She'll be back," Varric good-naturedly replied.

Fenris growled. "If it's cheap voyeuristic thrills you seek, the Blooming Rose would probably be more to your taste. Let the lady be."

"I don't take orders from you," Anders bitterly shot back. "And I'm genuinely concerned, not desperate to spy on an unsuspecting naked woman who could probably dispense of me quite easily if she so chose."

"At least we agree on something," Fenris snorted.

"You know, she normally doesn't take this long," Varric said after a few tense moments of silence passed. "Maybe someone should go check on her."

Anders moved to leave, but Fenris swiftly rose to his feet. "I'll go. You stay here. The dwarf may need your assistance if something should arise."

Varric chuckled again. "Go on, bring back our wayward adventurer."

With a grunt of approval, Fenris snatched up his longsword and started down the path that led to the river. They had made camp a few hundred yards away, careful that raiders on the river wouldn't see their campfire overnight. Not that anything but an entire army of darkspawn could threaten the expedition's enormous entourage. Fenris made his way down the winding game trail and stopped once the trees cleared from the river's banks. He scanned the shoreline in either direction, but saw no sign of Aria.

Perplexed, he started looking at the ground for tracks. He sifted through the woodland creatures' prints and found a set of fresh-looking barefoot human tracks. Sighing, he followed them up the heavily forested river bank for a good three hundred yards, where the base of a small waterfall emerged from the rocks above. His keen elven eyes noted a pile of clothes on a large boulder off the shallow river's bank.

Upon further investigation, he noticed a figure within the falling water, illuminated by the newly risen full moon, glinting silver off the shining, alabaster skin. It was a human form, waist deep in the water, facing away from him. He smiled to himself in relief when he noted the long, silvery white hair that fell down the form's back. As he watched, she lifted the heavy, drenched mass onto the top of her head and began lathering some exotic scented soap into it.

His breath caught in his throat at the sight. Her bared, lithe form, her beautiful hair, the graceful, fluid way she moved—though they captivated him every time he saw her, it was not these things that drew his focus at present. It was the bright red swath between her shoulder blades.

He darted closer, fear quickening his pulse and stealing his breath. He knew she'd taken quite a few nasty hits in their recent battles, but not in so crucial of a spot. Anders had always been a thorough healer, despite his irritating status as an apostate. How could something of this magnitude have escaped him? And then Fenris realized, now that he was close enough, that it wasn't a wound, at least not in the sense he had feared. It was a design he'd seen throughout his travels of Thedas. It was the Dalish symbol for hawk. He recalled Varric and Anders talking about it a couple days before, when Merrill had drunkenly admitted tattooing the rogue party leader, marveling at how Hawke had allowed herself to be branded by the Dalish's craftsman. He hadn't believed them, but now he saw they were right.

The whimsical scarlet design was mesmerizing, clear and plain in detail and set off perfectly by the alabaster hue of her skin. The wings' tips flared out just enough that they gracefully touched her shoulder blades. The head and eyes were alert, watching from its perch just below her neck. It was simple, but beautiful. The ink was obviously from the Dales, and Fenris knew from his limited conversations with Merrill that such tattoos were very painful when administered. He touched his throat where similar designs adorned his own skin. Very painful indeed—except, she'd chosen to have it done. He'd been forced against his will. She was quite the puzzle.

Aria walked into the fall of the water then, her hair tumbling down her back again as the suds rinsed away under the swift guidance of her fingertips. The trance he'd been under was momentarily broken as her tattoo receded from view under the cascade of her hair. He could smell the enticing aroma of vanilla, lavender, and sage as the breeze carried the scent of her soap downwind to him. Crisp, clean, and sweet. His eyes then followed the contours of the muscles in her back, the hollows just above her buttocks, the tops of which were only just visible above the water. A dull, hot ache coursed through his lower belly.

He watched as she snatched at another bottle on the rock ledge just off to the side of the falls. She dispensed a creamy liquid into her palm and repeated the movements she'd made while applying the soap. As she stepped into the water fall once more, shame slammed into him. Here he was, gawking and very much enjoying the scene before him as he had just accused Anders of wanting to do. She deserved her privacy, her dignity. She'd given them all so much; it was the least he could do in return.

He waited until she grabbed her toiletries from the rock ledge and waded towards her clothes before he melted into the forest shadows. She couldn't know he'd seen her. Perhaps he'd wait and return to camp after she had. The others no doubt would be suspicious. Anders was on her heels like a lost, lovesick puppy and Varric had too keen an eye for intrepid details. The last thing he wanted Aria Hawke to think was that he was so obsessed with her that he'd fallen to the level of a peeping tom.

He turned his back while she dressed, though he stole at least one more glance at the crimson hawk design on her back. It was an odd place for a tattoo on a woman. In Tevinter and the rest of Thedas, women proudly tattooed their hands, arms, and faces, though most of them were simply skin dye that faded or completely washed off with time. Dalish tattoos had the ink imbedded under the skin, which was an extremely painful endeavour. It was an expression of self, meant to be seen by all. The hidden nature of Aria's tattoo made him wonder what else she may have concealed on her person.

Shaking his head to clear his meandering, libidinous thoughts, he turned to check on her progress once more. She was fully clothed and armoured at this point, presently working on twisting her silvery mass of hair into the ornate bun she normally sported. Fenris decided that now was the time he should approach her. He could make it look as though he'd just walked up and was relieved to see her. Sighing, he stepped onto the path and started walking towards her, sure to make plenty of noise so she would hear his approach.

"Is something wrong?" Aria worriedly asked, trotting up to him in the moonlight as soon as he emerged from the treeline.

"No," he tersely replied. "You were gone quite some time, so we worried something ill had befallen you."

Aria blushed at this, stung slightly by his sharp tone. "Oh, no, I just... Had to clear my head," she honestly stated, falling into step next to him.

"I understand," Fenris softly said, turning to look at her quizzically.

"What?" Aria asked, fidgeting with her hair a moment. It didn't feel like it was sitting right. She stopped and fixed it.

"Nothing," Fenris grunted, continuing back toward camp.

"Ok then," Aria replied, breaking into a jog.

Fenris followed and together, they ran back to camp. By the time they returned, the members of the expedition were mostly done eating, and at least half of them had turned in for the night. Several kept watch on the outskirts of the enormous party, many of them hidden within the low branches of the tall trees.

Aria took the plate Anders offered her and she ravenously devoured the entire thing. Varric was telling stories near their cookfire to a group of young men and dwarves still keen on having the adventure of their lives. One of them passed her a wineskin and she drank heartily from it before handing it back.

She was aware that Anders seemed to be in a rare good mood and Fenris was much more cagey and stand-offish than usual. It made her wonder as to what fray the two had while she was gone from camp. Aria had expected their moods to be the opposite. Anders should have been doom and gloom about going back into the Deep Roads. Fenris should have been all too happy to be someplace Danarius would never find him, nor would the Magister ever venture into such a place after him.

Not wanting to be further entangled in any mage/anti-mage drama, Aria quietly stood and took her leave while Varric told another one of his many engaging tales. She wouldn't have to worry about being on watch. There were hirelings for that. It was a nice sentiment to have. Let the hired help do the heavy lifting for once. Maker knew she'd done enough of that herself.


	20. Chapter NINETEEN

_A/N: Apparently I'm on a writing binge. Newly inspired to keep writing this fanfic and I have a few more scenes for further chapters constructed. Just have to build the rest of the story around them. Enjoy! Thank you Warrioresscat for your awesome input! Criticism and praise are both appreciated. :) _

**Chapter 19**

The expedition took nearly nine days to reach the Deep Roads entrance Bartrand had selected from Anders' maps. It had been a fairly uneventful journey, but Aria well knew that was not a sign of things to come. Everyone in Ferelden knew the Deep Roads were something terrible to be feared, and with good reason.

They ventured nearly two days into the carefully constructed tunnels before they hit a cave in. Bartrand barked for them to set camp, his unpleasant demeanor reaching new levels of loathsome after he hit the dwarf who informed him of the collapse.

Varric and Aria offered to search for an alternate route, and Aria promised the merchant Bodahn that she'd look for his wayward simpleton of a son, Sandal, who had decided to disappear. Naturally, Fenris and Anders accompanied them.

They battled nearly two dozen darkspawn before they found Sandal, who had amazingly turned an ogre into crystal. A trail of darkspawn pieces and parts littered the ground before the simple dwarf man, and when Aria asked him how he'd dispatched of them, he simply replied with "Boom!" As for the ogre, all he said was "Not Enchantment!" He also gave Aria a new rune stone he'd crafted. From the weight and energy of the thing, Aria could tell it was a powerful one.

Aria led them through yet more caverns and side passages, and they managed to find a way around. They quickly reported back to Bartrand, then settled down to rest for the evening. Bartrand had issued a gag order on everyone so that their formidable presence was left as undetected as possible. No one could speak above one another, there was to be no singing, and no one could practice sparring, as many of the young men and dwarves were wont to do.

Aria set her bed roll next to Bodahn's fire and listened to the people around her speaking softly. She curled up next to the fire, using her pack as a pillow, and laid there watching the flames until nearly everyone but the first watch were either laying down or fast asleep. She was startled and nearly whipped her blade at Fenris when he appeared next to her.

"It's just me," he softly said, placing his own bedroll next to hers. He didn't seem at all worried about her blade.

Aria simply nodded, then situated herself again. Anders set himself up on the other side of her, Varric on the other side of him. In a few moments, she could hear Anders and Varric both softly snoring. When she turned to look at Fenris, she found he was watching her, his eyes lit with some dark emotion she couldn't place.

"I thought you were fond of sleeping," he murmured, softly enough that only she could discern the words.

Aria smiled bitterly. "I used to be. Seems...It's not so important anymore," she replied just as softly. Her heartbeat went skittering when he inched himself closer, his eyes never leaving hers as he moved.

"You think too much, sometimes," he nearly whispered.

"If there's a way to stop, I'm all ears," she laughed quietly. She reached out to gently touch his face. He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath, his hand covering hers.

"I've a confession to make," he said after a moment, his eyes riveted on hers as soon as they opened.

A lump rose in Aria's throat and anxiety set her nerves to singing. She offered him a smile as she asked, "About what?"

"I...saw you. At the falls. When we first started out from Kirkwall." He bowed his head in shame, wincing as though he expected her to strike him.

She tilted his chin up slightly, adjusting her pillow under her neck so that she could more comfortably look at him. His eyes bore testament to the guilt and shame he felt at having glimpsed her in her most vulnerable state.

"So?" she asked. "I'd rather it was you than any other person in this camp."

Fenris actually blushed at this and he avoided her gaze for a second before he pulled her to rest right next to him. He flared his lyrium brandings and flooded her with warmth. Aria didn't bother to protest. She was starting to get cold from sleeping on the chilly stone floor, despite her thick wool blanket, and the comfort his presence and warmth gave her would allow her weary mind reprieve.

"Sleep," he softly said, his fingers combing through loose tendrils of her hair. "I fear tomorrow may be the end of the easiest part of this journey."

Aria didn't respond. She rested her head next to his, their "pillows" pushed together. He threw his blanket across hers, then settled his arm comfortably over her shoulder. He flared his warmth once more and she closed her eyes.

Fenris watched her fall asleep, taking the liberty of smoothing her hair. Though she hadn't been able to take her customary bath in a few days now, she still smelled of lavender and vanilla. He heard a soft snarl come from just beyond where they lay and his green eyes collided with the brown ones of Anders. The mage was furious, but said nothing. He didn't have to. The look on his face said it all. Fenris quirked his sardonic half smile at the mage, kissed the top of Aria's sleeping head, then laid his own down to rest.

Aria woke some time later, feeling the most refreshed she'd felt in nearly a month. Fenris was helping get the cooking fires going when she woke. Anders was talking with Bartrand, pointing to places on the map. Most of the camp had been picked up and the expeditioners moved about restlessly. Aria swiftly gathered her gear and made for the front of the train. Varric joined her and they scouted ahead for a bit, retracing their steps from yesterday and making sure there were no new darkspawn in the area. Satisfied that it was safe, they returned to where the expedition waited. Bartrand led the way back through and they spent the next two days navigating the huge, ancient tunnels down to the forgotten Thaig. Each of those two nights, Aria fell asleep next to Fenris, and each of those two nights, the growing hatred between Fenris and Anders deepened.

"This is it," Bartrand reverently said as the scouting party consisting of Fenris, Anders, Varric, Aria and himself stopped outside a very old, sinister looking door.

Anders and Fenris wrenched the door open and the scent of dust and decay that rushed out nearly made Aria gag. She swallowed the bile that rose in her throat and stealthily crept into the darkness. An eery glow emanated from the curiously twisted rock formations throughout the structure, adding to the evil aura that permeated the chasm.

"Is that... Lyrium?" Varric asked from behind her, startling her somewhat.

"It's not like any lyrium I've ever seen," Aria replied as the rest of their scouting party joined them.

Aria continued looking around, searching for anything of value. Here was where they would make their fortune. If they could make it out of this place alive. The icy fingers of worry grazed the back of her neck and she kept her daggers at the ready.

They ascended a banked set of stairs up to what looked like an altar. A black, glowing idol of some sort sat on the altar and Aria swore she could hear soft singing. She turned the idol over with the tip of her dagger and inspected it. When nothing happened, Varric snatched it up, his eyes going wide in the low light.

"Bartrand, look at this!" he said, tossing the idol to his brother. "Could be worth a fortune."

Bartrand gave a low whistle and inspected it for himself. "You could be right," he said, turning back toward the doorway.

"Let's keep looking. Probably more like it around here," Varric suggested as they started to spread out and explore the ancient thaig's secrets.

It was then that Aria saw the door closing. "Varric! The door!"

The four remaining party members rushed it, but in vain. It was closed, and locked from the outside.

"Bartrand! The door closed behind you!" Varric called out.

"Sorry _brother_, but this is too good to split three ways," Bartrand replied through the door.

Varric screamed at the door for a few moments, but to no avail. He sank against the door, his brother's betrayal cutting him straight to the marrow of his bones. Aria tested the door, but shook her head, knowing this wasn't a way out.

"C'mon Varric. I'm not getting eaten by darkspawn. Not it if I can help it anyway," Aria said after a moment. The dwarf accepted her hand and let her haul him back to his feet.

"I swear, I'm going to find that sonofabitch, sorry Mother, and I'm gonna kill him!" Varric shouted one last insult at the door.

They all began immediately searching for an alternate route, desperation starting to take root in all of them. Aria mumbled angrily to herself. Of all the places she'd been in the past year alone, this was not where she was meeting her end. She was NOT dying down here, Maker and Andraste both be damned!

"Here! There's a tunnel," Aria called after a few moments, Anders and Fenris by her side. Varric trod over wearily to join them. Anders and Fenris looked relieved. Varric was still processing his brother's actions.

They fought through more darkspawn, and creatures that Varric said were rock wraiths. The fighting ceased when a rock wraith the size of a mature dragon appeared. It offered them help, but when Aria consulted Anders about the creature's nature, they realized it was a demon. Aria turned the demon's help down, much to everyone else's approval.

The party continued onward, dispensing of more wraiths until they came to a huge chasm. At the center stood yet another wraith that dwarfed the previous enormity they'd encountered. Weary from the constant battling, Aria called them all to her and took refuge behind a large pillar when the monstrosity unleashed an attack that filled the chasm with destructive red beams.

"If we get out of this alive, I'm going to filet that brother of yours and feed him to the fish!" Aria snapped, out of breath. The red beams diminished and they returned to attacking while it recharged.

"Not if I find him first!" Varric yelled back once they took refuge behind another pillar again.

"He's a dead dwarf," Fenris spat, launching another assault as the creature recharged once more.

It felt as though hours and hours had gone by while they whittled away at the beast and finally, Aria launched herself at the monstrosity's face, burying one of her daggers into the dome of light that served as its head. She fell to the ground so hard that a few of her ribs cracked and the impact knocked the breath out of her. Her head cracked against the hard stones and her body went first painfully rigid, then completely limp.

She laid there a moment, her head spinning, unable to breathe for the pain. Anders wrenched her to her feet and she cried out, doubling over against him, wheezing and fighting for breath. She struggled for control of anything, her mind blank in her panic to breathe.

"Shh, shh, just let me-" Anders soothed, his voice sounding dull and disembodied, and she felt the healing white light of the mage's considerable ability wash through her.

The ribs knit back together and the muscles she'd torn in her exertions were also repaired. Aria took great lungfuls of air, struggling to stay standing. She stood in his embrace for a moment, trying to clear her head and get her bearings again. He released her abruptly and strode away from her without a second glance. She stumbled a little, but quickly regained her balance. It hurt, but right now was not the time to deal with it. There was work to be done. They all joined Varric, who stood looking wide-eyed and speechless at a dragon's hoard worth of treasure.

The four of them took what they could carry, Anders fashioning a wagon of sorts from two staves and blanket. They also found the key that opened the door which the demon had claimed only he could do. So much for needing his help, anyway. Aria was glad that she didn't accept the deal. She could sleep with a clear conscience. That was never a path down which she ever wanted to trod.

They camped in another abandoned thaig that night, one that was blessedly darkspawn free and looked as though it had been centuries since another living soul had occupied it at all. They lit no cook fire, as they had nothing but dry rations to sustain them here. Varric shared his wineskin with everyone, Fenris shared his dried venison strips, Anders a loaf of bread, and Aria contributed some dried berries and nuts for their dinner.

"I'll take first watch," Anders gloomily stated, having grown accustomed to the hirelings. It also piqued his jealous ire that Aria chose to sleep so close to the Tevinter fugitive. So angry was he, that it made him physically ill to watch her fall asleep within the elf's embrace.

Weak, irritable, and still fuzzy-headed from the nasty fall she'd endured earlier, Aria was asleep long before Fenris and Varric had even unpacked their bed rolls. Varric and Fenris sat talking in the reddish darkness, the only light coming from the molten lava flows all around them.

"What do you plan to do with the money you get from this expedition, elf?" Varric said once Anders had disappeared and Aria was lying a few yards away, her back to them.

"I don't know. I suppose I should fix up the mansion," Fenris said, sitting back against a fallen pillar.

"But you won't," Varric chuckled.

"No," Fenris said, looking over at the dwarf, the corner of his mouth lifted in his trademark sardonic smirk. "I probably won't."

"So, what's with this sudden coziness with Hawke?" Varric asked, lowering his voice considerably.

"I don't understand your question," Fenris hedged, just as quietly.

"I think you do," Varric pressed. "I have stories to tell. It's better if there's insight into a situation."

"There is no situation. She gets cold easily, she hasn't been sleeping, and we all know how Aria loves her sleep. Helping make it so she is at her best keeps all of us alive," Fenris diplomatically stated.

"Well-played elf, but that's not the story I see. Very well, keep your secrets. They'll come out sooner or later," Varric nonchalantly replied, setting about to unrolling his bed roll.

Fenris did the same, near Aria, but not so close as last night. It felt like ages had passed since then. Truth be told, he hadn't slept that good in years, what few hours he did manage to sleep. He felt oddly about the whole thing. It felt as though... The entire set of dynamics surrounding both Aria and him had shifted. It wasn't necessarily an uncomfortable feeling, but at the same time, it was foreign to him.

They had only slept a couple of hours before Anders returned with word that there were stirrings in the tunnels behind them. They quickly picked up their small makeshift camp and pressed on, eager to find a way out of the cramped tunnels and into open ground where they could more easily defend themselves.

At last, many hours later, or so it felt, they emerged from the Deep Roads. Luckily, they were but a mile or so away from the entrance they'd used to enter that blighted hell hole and quickly picked up the road that would lead them back to Kirkwall.

"How long until you think we return?" Aria asked as they picked up the road to Kirkwall.

"A week, if we're unlucky," Varric replied.

"And...if we're lucky?" Aria glibly asked, stretching her arms to the sky and delighting in the warmth of the late afternoon sun. How dwarves lived in Orzammar she would never understand. She felt as though she couldn't breathe and would wilt without open sky and sunlight.

"We stumble over Bartrand's corpse along the way," Varric spat, picking up speed.

Aria followed, along with Fenris and Anders, and they made excellent time. They traveled nearly 10 miles by the time the setting sun forced them to stop and make camp for the night. Varric shot a couple of rabbits and roasted them on a hastily erected spit over the cook fire. Anders gathered some wild carrots and some tender leaves for added sustenance, then constructed a simple lean-to out of pine boughs to cover them all should it rain. Fenris worked on sharpening blades and repairing bolts.

Aria was angry that her toiletries were abandoned at the last expedition encampment, but she craved to be clean. She went to the river that ran parallel to the road, though far enough that the trees and boulder formations hid her from view. She stripped and waded into a shallow part of the river, until the water was up to her waist. The water was absolute heaven on her dusty, dry, sunlight-starved skin. Filth, gore, dust, and whatever noxious things she'd been forced to endure washed away and she felt slightly more human when she emerged from the water again some time later.

It was nearly dark by the time she returned to their makeshift camp. Varric handed her a large leaf plate with her dinner on it and she ravenously devoured it. They sat around the fire in companionable silence for a good long while, each lost in their own thoughts. Varric had taken the liberty of counting up the worth of their spoils and estimated that Fenris and Anders would walk away from this endeavor 75 sovereigns richer, while Varric would keep 125, and Aria would receive 200. No one argued with his logic. Flipping coin was something he was adept at, as were games involving the juggling of numbers.

"I'm sure Bethany and your mother will be ecstatic when you return," Varric finally said at last, breaking the long silence. His gaze was studying Hawke's visage.

"I'm buying the Amell estate back as soon as we get back to Kirkwall. I'm not spending another Maker-forsaken night in that shit hole Gamlen calls a house," Aria nearly growled, tossing a twig into the fire.

"Moving up in the world," Anders quietly stated.

"We all are," Varric said with a smile. "I'll take first watch. Get some sleep."

Aria was all too happy to comply. She was thoroughly exhausted, though it was nice to be somewhat clean again. She unrolled her bed roll and settled near the fire. Anders took a spot across the fire from her, and Fenris took a spot near Aria.

The moon was not out tonight, but the stars were. They were bright and infinite in number. Aria laid on her back, staring up at that sky, thankful to be out of the Deep Roads. She was thankful to be headed home. But most of all, she was thankful that soon, she'd be able to lift her family from the hole they'd been plunged into when the Blight destroyed Lothering.

She sighed at this thought and turned to see Fenris lying on his side watching her. She smiled timidly at him and he returned the gesture with the slight lifting of the corner of his mouth. Exhaustion stole over her, and she could no longer keep it at bay. She mouthed "Good night" to the elf, who mouthed it back, and then, she allowed her eyelids to drift shut. Her last thought before she succumbed to deep, dreamless sleep, was of the happy homecoming she was sure to have. Maker knew she'd bloody well earned it.

They reached Kirkwall before sunup five days later, having traveled all night the night prior. Every single one of them was sick to death of this journey and the promise of a warm hearth, good food, and a soft bed under a proper roof was enough to keep them traveling through the night.

Anders detached from them as soon as they hit Kirkwall, muttering only a terse "Farewell" before he headed to his own humble abode. Aria, Varric, and Fenris went to the Hanged Man for a hearty breakfast, after which Aria and Fenris left Varric to catch up on his own rest.

They walked up to Hightown together, Aria seeing Fenris safely home. He invited her in for a bottle of wine, but she graciously declined, her mission for the day clear. Go to the Viscount, buy the title, and have Aveline and her guardsmen remove any soul left in the estate.

The price on the mansion was surprisingly cheap. The Viscount accepted 25 sovereigns on sight for the place and quickly signed the deed into her name. He even provided a decree for Hawke to take to Aveline.

The Guard-Captain was overjoyed to see Aria, informing her that the expedition had returned much fewer in number than it had when it left. Bartrand was nowhere to be found and many people had spread rumor that Hawke had been slain by darkspawn, along with Varric, Anders, and Fenris.

There was no one in the Amell estate and it looked like it had been vacant quite some time. Aveline sent a few guardsmen in to clean it up a bit before Hawke moved her mother and sister in. Just as Aria was descending the steps from Hightown into Lowtown, Anders came running to her.

"Aria, you have to go home. Now," he said, desperation cracking his voice. "Now! Before it's too late!"

"Anders, what in Andraste's name is going on?" Aria wearily asked, jogging the rest of the way down the steps and through the Lowtown marketplace.

"Templars," Anders growled in the voice of Justice. "I have to go! I can't!" He ran back towards Darktown, drawing his hood over his head so no one would see the white light of the Fade cracking his skin.

Rage, fear, and despair slammed into Aria then and she raced to Gamlen's. As she burst through the door, she realized she was already far too late.

The Templar, Cullen, greeted her amiably as she made her reckless entrance. She'd worked with the man before and had much respect for him. His eyes were sad as he regarded her.

"I'm sorry, Hawke," he said. "Harboring an apostate is a hanging offense, but the Viscount dismissed the charges against you due to your good standing in this city. High reputation notwithstanding, however, I am forced to take Miss Bethany into the Circle."

"There must be another way-" Aria began to say, tears spilling down her cheeks.

"Aria don't. I will be ok," Bethany reassured her, hugging her sister. "I'm so glad you made it back. Take care of Mother."

The templars led her sister out of the house. Cullen inclined his head to her as he departed, smiling sadly before shutting the door. Aria stood looking numbly at the door for a few moments, unable to process what had just happened. When Leandra collapsed to the floor sobbing, her protective instinct took over and she held the woman.

A long time passed before Leandra stopped crying and the Hawke matriarch stood of her own volition. She looked down at her eldest daughter and smiled through her tears.

"They said you were dead. I feared the worse. I'm so glad you've returned," Leandra said, tugging Aria to her feet.

"I know this in no way makes up for Bethany being taken into the circle, Mother, but...pack your things. We're not staying here any longer."

"Thank the Maker!" Gamlen hooted.

"What do you mean, child?" Leandra asked, taking the roll of parchment Aria offered to her. "Oh Aria! The expedition was a success then? I can go home! We...we can go home!"

"What?!" Gamlen snarled, snatching the parchment from his sister. His eyes grew wide and his skin went green when he read the deed to the Amell Estate, and saw its new owner.

Aria packed Bethany's things away in her trunk and dragged the heavy thing outside. She then packed her own things, and took the trunks and satchels full of her Mother's possessions as well. Aria then borrowed Lady Elegant's three pack mules and the remaining two free Hawkes made the trip up to Hightown.

The guards were still tidying things up when they arrived, and a few of them helped unload the mules. Aria left her mother to start setting up the place to her liking while she returned the mules to Lady Elegant. From there, she went on a spending spree. She had the grocers deliver food to the estate, bought a few new dresses for both her mother and herself, a new necklace for her mother, and from there, it was off to the furniture store. She bought two new beds with fine linens, two sofas, a dining table with ten chairs, a writing desk, a beautiful deep bath tub, and a work bench; all of which were promptly delivered to the estate.

When she finally returned to her new home, it was nearly dusk. Mother had directed all of the deliveries with happy grace, and when Aria finally stepped over the threshold of her mansion, the place actually felt like home. The Hawke matriarch even had water heated for a bath waiting for her daughter.

"Freshen up, my darling. Then, we'll dine together. It has been both a terrible and wonderful day," her mother greeted her.

Aria lugged the heavy buckets from her bedroom hearth to the new tub across the room once mother had exited. She then stripped out of her road-grungy clothes and delighted in the scented foam bath. She laid in the tub, not letting the horrors of earlier steal into her thoughts. She'd deal with that later. Right now, all she wanted was to just enjoy the fruits of her many labors.

Nearly an hour after slipping into the tub, she finally emerged and let the water go down the drain in the floor. That was a nicety she hadn't experienced in all her years. She dressed in a fine new robe and silly looking, but comfortable slippers before she wearily descended the stairs.

They ate broasted quail, asparagus, and boiled potatoes for supper, supplemented with a fine Rivaini wine Varric had sent whilst Aria was out. After supper, Leandra surprised Aria with a decadent chocolate cake for dessert. When they had finished eating, Aria bade her mother good night.

She sat on the new bed for a few moments, hardly able to believe that this, all of this, this house, this bed, these clothes, this life—it was hers now. She'd fought tooth and nail, bled, cried, and sweat for it. Gone were the days of living on the good graces of others. Gone was the crushing weight that hounded her over her mother's plight. Gone were the times of just scraping by from day to day.

But Father and Carver were still dead. And now, Bethany was in the clutches of a ruthless Circle of Magi. It tasted bitter in Aria's mouth and she did not stem the flow of tears that fell from her eyes. Her beloved little sister was a slave to the Templars now. If she'd taken her into the Deep Roads, Aria might have saved her sister from that fate. For all her victories, that one defeat seemed to darken them all. She walked over to her writing desk and uncorked the bottle of wine that sat there.

When the bottle was gone, Aria's tears had ceased flowing. Her mind and body and heart were finally numb. Despite the terrible loss, though, Aria allowed herself to feel completely empty of everything as she crawled beneath the soft, sweet-smelling sheets that adorned her lavish, comfortable new bed. Tomorrow was another day, and for once, Aria wanted to just stay home.


	21. Chapter TWENTY

**Chapter 20**

A couple months passed in blessedly uneventful fashion. Bodahn and Sandal had taken up residence in Aria's new home as her menservants. Bodahn had insisted the arrangement as conditions for repaying Aria for saving Sandal in the Deep Roads. Profits from the mines came in and Aria found that merchants were willing to gift her their wares if she let them use her as an endorsement. She and Isabela went shopping together. Merrill visited regularly to chit chat idly about the goings on in the alienage. Varric frequented the Hawke estate with updates about the politics of the city and to try out his newest stories on Aria's willing ears. Fenris visited a few times, finding Leandra to be a fascinating source of information about Kirkwall. Aveline bugged Aria about helping train recruits who were better suited for Aria's style of fighting.

In all that time, Aria refused to let herself wallow in the darkness that perpetually stalked the edge of consciousness. She made merry, frequenting the Hanged Man in the evenings. She played the socialite, attending teas and parties with her new noble "friends', mostly at her mother's bidding. She worked with the City Guard at Aveline's behest to keep her mind too busy to have time to dwell.

Naturally, when Varric informed her that he was throwing a large party at the Hanged Man for all the expeditioners and anyone in Kirkwall who wanted to meet Hawke in person, she had to accept. It was here that everything seemed to come to a head for her.

Aria slammed her empty stein down on the table and licked at the mead that still lingered on her lips. The chamber musicians had just started a rousing, gypsy-like melody that stirred her blood and made her yearn to move. She winked at Isabela across the table and swiftly stood, nearly unsettling her chair in the wake of her movements.

She closed her eyes and lifted her arms above her head, allowing the music to seep in through her pores until she felt the beat within her body. She began to move, lithe and slow, allowing the enthralling notes to dictate her movements. She lost herself to the melody, not caring that several of the bar's drunk patrons hooted lewdly and offered empty promises of pleasure they could render if she so agreed. The pace of the music began to quicken, the lute and fiddle engaging in a rousing, haunting melody that spoke of the heartbreak and triumph she'd endured. She was the song's willing slave.

Fenris sat next to Varric and Isabela, tipping his tankard to his lips as Aria stood. They all watched her, enchanted by her sudden, unabashed release. He watched her hips dip and sway, her torso gyrating in perfect synchrony to the melody. Her slender, sinewy arms punctuated her movements, adding flair and deepening the enchantment. She kept her eyes closed as she moved, her expression one of utter rapture. A beautiful flush of soft pink infused her ivory cheeks and strands of her silvery hair rebelled from the ornate bun she wore. Sweat began to bead on her skin, lending her countenance an ethereal glow. As the melody deepened and hastened, he could see the slight shimmer of tears in the corners of her closed eyes.

He couldn't take his gaze away from her. A black lace choker adorned with a beautifully cut amethyst sparkled at her white throat. The emerald blouse she'd chosen to wear this evening clung to her ample bosom in the most deliciously distracting fashion, fastened by an amethyst and silver brooch at the lowest juncture of her cleavage as was publicly acceptable. The elegant off-shoulder sleeves flowed down her arms, slit from wrist to shoulder and cascading as she spun and dipped. A couple of the laces at the bottom of the blouse were undone, allowing whoever watched a glimpse of the soft, flat expanse of her white belly and the tiny violet-hued gem that dangled there in her navel. The fitted, pleated black leather skirt she wore was perhaps a little too short, but no one here was going to complain. Her long legs moved just as fluidly as the rest of her body, lending her turns the smoothness and agility they'd all known she possessed. Her soft, black doeskin boots laced up to just under her knees, adding a comely sort of breadth to her muscular calves.

"By the Stone, what's gotten into her?" Varric reverently asked no one in particular, drawing a long sip off his own tankard, his eyes riveted on Aria's face.

"What? She's just dancing," Merrill hiccupped, looking at her empty tankard with a bit of surprise.

Isabela chuckled low and suggestively. "She's exorcising her demons. I think I might just join her."

"If that's what it takes to exorcise a demon, I'd gladly possess her," Anders murmured from down the table.

Fenris fought the rage that surged within him at the bawdy banter of his party. He took a steadying draught from his tankard, closing his ears to them so that he may continue watching Aria uninterrupted. He wondered if he could ever have her like this, but to himself. If he could somehow change the world so that she would drop her guard for him… It angered him that she was so comfortable behaving in such a way with so many hungry eyes and impure thoughts present.

He swiftly reprimanded himself. Were his own eyes not so hungry nor his own thoughts so impure? Who was he to stake a claim to her? How could he blame everyone present for wanting her?

She was an enigma. The complete package. She was unbelievably kind, despite her lethal reputation. Her heart was made of solid gold and bigger than the sky. She was fair and just, though anyone who earned her wrath met a swift demise. She was cunning, quick on her feet, adept with the blade as none he'd ever before met. She could drink with the best, and laugh with the rest. Her sardonic sense of humor was much akin to his own. And yet, here and now, she was not a hardened warrior, but pure, soft woman. Joy, pain, beauty, sorrow, hope—she was a beacon for such emotions.

Seeing her like this… It added to her depth as he knew it. She was everything a man or elf could ever want. Chaste enough that she would be allowed into the Maker's kingdom, but earthly enough that she never thought herself above anyone.

All too soon, the music stopped. The patrons of the bar erupted in raucous but appreciative cheers. Aria blushed and bowed, quickly taking her seat. Before she could ask, Varric handed her another stein of mead. She took an impressive swig of it, draining half the tankard before setting it back down on the table.

It had felt good to move like that, to completely lose herself in the captivating music. Her body surged with warmth and her muscles felt deeply relaxed. For the moment her troubles were forgotten. The mead heated her belly quite pleasantly and she took in the faces of her party members. She couldn't tell whether they were appalled or mesmerized.

"What?" she managed as she swiped away the slight bit of foam that clung to her upper lip.

"That was bloody incredible," Isabela chortled, smoothing a tawny hand up Aria's alabaster forearm.

"Where'd you learn to dance like that?" Merrill innocently asked, her green eyes wide with wonder as she sat forward, like a small child hearing some grand tale for the first time.

Aria smiled bashfully and cast her gaze downward, fully realizing the effect her little outburst had had on her companions and other present company. "I don't know what came over me. I just wanted to dance."

"I think if you tell Corff before you do that next time, you could stand to make quite a bit of profit," Varric chuckled.

"Here, here!" a couple of drunken eavesdroppers agreed, toasting Varric across the aisle.

Aria chuckled. "I'd rather get my profit by the blade, if that's alright with you lot."

"Some would much prefer that, my lady," Fenris stated softly, his enchanting green eyes meeting hers through the fringe of his reckless, silvery hair. A wry smile tugged at one side of his lips.

"Prefer what, exactly?" Anders snipped, his dark eyes briefly flashing with fury as his gaze leveled on the elf.

"That she acquire her treasure by the blade," Fenris softly replied, ignoring the bite in the mage's tone. His eyes remained on Aria's.

"Right. I think another round is in order," Isabela quipped, seeking to diffuse the growing tension around them. She hailed Corff, who quickly set up a tray to be delivered.

"Agreed. Settle down, gentlemen. Tonight is for celebration! Haven't we fought enough the past few weeks? Let us simply enjoy ourselves," Aria concurred, clinking the rim of her tankard against the one proffered by Varric in a companionable toast. "So! Tell me, Varric—what do you plan on doing with that mountain of gold?"

Varric chuckled warmly and winked at Hawke. "I'm trying to get Aveline to let me petition for partial ownership of this place."

"Oh? That should be an interesting venture," Aria replied, unable to appease the sudden thrill in her pulse when her eyes met Fenris's again briefly.

"I'm inclined to agree. You've given me an idea, Hawke," Varric continued, leaning forward towards her, cradling his tankard in the crook of his arm on the table. "Dancers. To do the stuff like you and Isabela do. Might even ask you to headline."

Aria thumped him lightly on the head with her index fingertip and he sat back, laughing heartily to himself. "I dance for no one's entertainment but my own," she growled.

"Well, if she won't Varric, I certainly am up for the idea," Isabela contributed, suggestively bumping the side of her leg against his.

"Ha! I knew you would be, Rivaini. See, Hawke? This is the spirit!"

"Mmm," Aria murmured through another long sip of her mead. "But see, Isabela is quite given to her lust. I'm not so ready."

"Awww, spoil sport," Isabela chortled, flicking a shelled peanut at Aria.

Aria laughed and flicked it back at her. "Your virtue, or lack thereof is quite apparent. Mine, however—"

"Oh shut up! You're just more discrete!" Isabela interjected before the other rogue could finish.

"Discrete at what?" Merrill burped, taking the full pint that Norah offered her. "I'm confused."

Aria laughed again, throwing her head back and ignoring Merrill for the moment. "I bet you've seen more action than a harlot on a boat full of men at sea. Oh wait, that was you! Nevermind!"

Their entire party erupted in laughter, Isabela included. "Touché, Hawke. But don't try to claim utter innocence when we all know far better!"

"Do we? Where have I been?" Varric added, looking in mock surprise at Aria. "When have you ever been anything but sweet and innocent?" He looked over at Anders. "I heard she wears a chastity belt to bed."

Anders coughed on the draught he'd just taken from his glass. "How would I know?"

"Oh! You're talking about sex!" Merrill suddenly gushed. They all laughed and Varric clapped an arm around the Dalish elf's shoulders.

"Daisy, I don't know if you should be listening to this conversation," Varric teased.

"Pfff! I've had sex. Lots of it in fact. At the summer solstice—"

"Merrill, elven orgies don't count," Anders deadpanned. Laughter ensued again and Merrill seemed even more confused, but rather than debate, she simply drowned herself in her pint of mead.

"Seriously though, Hawke, when _was_ the last time you had a man—or a woman?" Isabela pressed once the laughter had subsided again, her question asked in earnest.

Aria sat back in her chair, her fingertips steepled and pressed against her lips. She sat there for a moment, honestly trying to remember her last intimate encounter. Sure, she was no stranger to the joys of the flesh, but it simply hadn't been a pressing matter as of late. At least, not until certain men and elves entered the picture. The last time she'd had a man… It was the templar in training, Ser Devon. Maker, had she almost forgotten him?

"Andraste's flaming ass, has it been that long?" Isabela pressed after a moment.

Aria laughed. "You know, I'm having a hard time remembering. It was before we came to Kirkwall, that's for certain."

Fenris had listened to this crude exchange, hating them all for their indiscretion. Such private matters shouldn't be so openly discussed. If it were just them in the room, he wouldn't have been so angry. But, with Aria's inability to contribute anything scandalous to the conversation, he found his ire subsiding.

She hadn't been with anyone since he'd known her. It was an unexpected relief. His greatest fear was that she'd been with Anders, but that had been dispelled. She remained untainted by the filth of magic, despite being nearly drowned in it by present company. Someone as beautiful and charismatic as she, with her rising status, would have no trouble entertaining herself with libidinous conquests. He should have known better than to think so lowly of her.

"For the love of the Maker, we need to get you some action, woman!" Isabela hooted, taking the fresh tankard offered by Norah.

"It could do you some good, Hawke," Varric agreed, smiling mischievously over the rim of the glass as he too took another drink.

Aria shrugged. She supposed she should have been aggravated and affronted by this conversation, but her personal life was not something she needed to hide. She simply hadn't done anything that could be considered a grave indiscretion. She had no immoral vices except the love of the drink after hard-won battles. And between Varric's stories and the accounts of people with whom she'd worked over the past couple of years, everyone knew everything about her anyway.

She stole a glance in both Fenris's and Anders's directions and found Fenris looking off into space, his expression softly contemplative. What did he think of the turn of this conversation? Surely he'd had his fair share of conquests. He was not one to brag, but his ethereal appeal was universal. She even believed that Anders might even find the elf attractive, if he didn't harbor such a deep-seated hatred for magic. She knew Isabela had tried her hand at seducing the liberated slave. She didn't know however if the little high-seas temptress had succeeded in that endeavor. She feared she might think less of Fenris if Isabela had. And Anders… He was just too consumed with his ideas of revolution to even want to dally with the pleasures a woman's or man's body had to offer.

"How is that mansion suiting you, Hawke?"

Anders' question snapped her from her thoughts immediately. She turned to him, smiling easily.

"It's a far cry better than Gamlen's, I assure you. I'm not quite certain what to do with all the space. My bed chambers alone are larger than Gamlen's entire home," Aria replied without missing a beat.

"Oh! We need to get you a wardrobe. Or five. And there's this hat shop in Lowtown that is the pirate's beard around here. Honestly, we need to drop some coin there, you and I," Isabela brightly suggested, leaning across the table towards Aria.

"Haven't we shopped enough? I don't much care for high fashion, Isabela," Aria chimed. "It is your influence that I even wore this outfit this evening instead of my armour."

"Bitch. It looks far better on you than it did on me," Isabela laughed, the compliment evident in her smiling face.

"You do look ravishing. Perhaps you should take her advice and let her select a wardrobe more suited to your new title," Varric agreed. "C'mon Hawke. Live a little!"

"It's a pretty outfit," Merrill said, nodding her agreement.

Aria shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "I've never been one to—"

Just then a stranger tapped her on the shoulder. He was a guardsman, though he was currently off duty. She wondered if he hadn't been listening in on the entire conversation. His timing was a little too perfect, but she pointedly ignored that fact.

"Serah Hawke, pardon my intrusion but I was just wondering if you would grant me the honor of a dance?"

He was actually quite handsome. Tall, strawberry blond, sturdy of build, honest of face. His eyes were a comely shade of grey that reminded her of a stormy sky—oh she'd had this thought before. He had a smattering of freckles across his nose and his lips were curled in a dashing smile. Grinning, Aria looked to her companions.

"Well, I would be truly cold-hearted to deny such a polite request," Aria said, allowing the guardsman to pull her from her chair and lead her to the small clearing that served as the tavern's dance floor.

Fenris and Anders glared at the pair as they began to dance to the rousing melody played by the musicians. Anders turned to look at Fenris, his expression changing from anger to something akin to camaraderie. Fenris continued to glower, both at the guard and at Anders. He did not like this turn of events one bit. But then, his feelings on the issue didn't matter, did they? She was human, almost a noble, and a worthy warrior. What would she ever see in a lowly elven squatter like himself?

"So, guardsman, what is your name?" Aria asked as he began to lead her around the floor.

"Perrin," he replied. "I am a transfer from the Free Marches."

"What brings you to Kirkwall, Ser Perrin?" she continued, allowing him to spin her back to him, embrace her, then release her again.

"My mother was in Ferelden. She fled the blight here, while I was serving in the army of the Free Marches with my father. So, we came here to start over after having served our tours of duty," Perrin answered, smiling politely.

"A noble pursuit," Aria agreed.

"Serah Hawke, I've heard so much about you from the captain. Is it true that you felled a darkspawn ogre with just a dagger?" Perrin questioned, genuinely interested.

Aria laughed. "Ah, Aveline. At least you heard it from her instead of Varric. She tends to stick closer to the facts."

"So it is true?" Perrin eagerly pressed, spinning her again.

"Well, not exactly. It was two daggers, not one."

Perrin burst out laughing. "A major detail, to be sure."

"You never know—sometimes the tide of the battle can rest on a dagger alone."

"Most wise, Serah Hawke, most wise," he chuckled earnestly.

"Ah, Perrin. Do call me Aria. Obviously we're not strangers anymore and the titles people bestow upon each other rarely do anything to explain the true nature of a person," she said, swaying gently with him.

"Aria, then. What happened in the Deep Roads? Many people had given you up for dead fools when they learned Bartrand was back with no other survivors."

"The Deep Roads," Aria said on a shudder. "It is not a place I would gladly enter again, that's for certain."

"I understand," he softly said. "It was not a battle of glory?"

"Yes, of course it was," she quickly replied, "It was just that I did not care much for it at all. You're under the earth and it's not very stable. Give me the sky over my head any day, not the entire country."

Perrin laughed again, throwing his head back a bit, his grey eyes lightening. Aria found his laughter pleasant, as well as the ease with which he expressed his mirth. Then again, she was about five pints in—Maker help her. "I never thought of it that way. Bloody hell, I understand," he said, pulling her a little closer.

Just then, someone tapped the guard on the hip. Aria was pleasantly shocked to see Varric standing there. The dwarf looked up at the guard, a glib smile on his lips.

"Excuse me, Ser Perrin, but I must humbly request that I take the next dance with Serah Hawke, if you please," Varric silver-tongued, his eyes hinting a hidden motive to Aria.

"Of course, Ser dwarf," Perrin replied, handing Hawke over to the rogue. "Perhaps we shall speak again later, Aria," the guard said with a bow.

"Perhaps," Aria chimed, turning to look at Varric. "What are you up to?" she asked as soon as Perrin was out of earshot.

Varric chuckled. "Me?" he asked, feigning hurt at her accusation.

Aria glowered down at him, allowing him to turn her so that they were facing away from their companions' table. "I know that look all too well, Varric."

He sighed. "Ah, Hawke. So many people seeking your attention, and yet you're oblivious."

She groaned. "I'm not oblivious. It's quite taxing and I don't know what to make of it most of the time."

"Well, make of it what you will, but I'm going to offer you an inside look at the situation," Varric kindly offered. "Aveline was just in the doorway."

"Aveline?" Aria exclaimed. "She said she had a night patrol this evening. It's perfectly plausible—"

"Don't rationalize. Just listen. Perrin was a decoy. She's trying to set you up with someone more…suitable," Varric murmured, trying to keep his voice low enough that no one else would hear.

"Oh really? More suitable? What exactly is that supposed to mean?"

"C'mon, Aria," he chuckled, using her first name and alerting her to the gravity of the situation, "We all know the triangle between the vengeful mage, the Tevinter elf, and the rising star."

Aria groaned again. "Well, I can manage my own love life, thank you very much."

They swayed with the sweet melody in comfortable silence for a few moments, pointedly ignoring their friends. Aria mulled over the idea that Aveline was starting to meddle. She had to laugh. Aveline. Helping her in the romance department. That was almost as good as Isabela trying to aid a cleric with studies of Andraste.

"She's just trying to help you, I think. At least she has good taste," Varric said as Aria laughed.

"Though I appreciate the gesture, I think I'm quite capable of handling my own affairs."

"Are you? Because you seem to be trying awfully hard to convince yourself," he laughingly challenged.

She sighed and bowed her head. "Maker help me."

"I don't think even he would like to be in your boots right now."

"Varric, you speak with everyone. You know people's intentions and you are a good judge of character. What would you do?"

"Oh no. You're not getting off that easy, Hawke. No one can decide but you. Ask yourself though, what could you live with?"

"What do you mean?" Aria asked, puzzled.

They turned again and she allowed Varric to spin her, awkward as it was dancing with a dwarf. She was tall for a human woman. She noticed then that Anders was leaving the tavern. He cast a longing, hurt look her way before disappearing into the darkness beyond the tavern's open door.

Varric also witnessed the mage's exit. "If Blondie had his way, the Chantry would be crushed. And with Vengeance, not just Justice dwelling within him, I don't know if he could control himself should the need arise. He's a loose cannon."

"That worries me more than you know," Aria allowed, feeling Fenris's gaze upon her.

"If the elf had his way, mages would fare no better in Kirkwall than they would if Knight Commander Meredith was let off her leash. How would he treat Bethany?" Varric elaborated for her.

"He likes Bethany," Aria defended.

"That he does. But do you think you could change his stance when it comes to all mages? His hatred runs a lot deeper than those scars."

"He's already started to. Varric, he's different when he's with me."

"He's very fond of you," Varric agreed. "But so is Blondie."

They were silent again for a moment as they danced, each considering what the other had said. Aria tried to come up with a way to create a metaphor that Varric could relate to. At last, it formed in her mind and she let it loose from her lips.

"Let us say for a moment that you found another crossbow—"

"Blasphemy!" Varric interrupted, playfully scowling at her.

"Just shush a moment and listen," Aria countered, laughter bubbling her tone. "I've granted you the right to say your piece, now let me share mine."

"I'm listening," the dwarf grudgingly conceded.

"You find another crossbow, comparable to Bianca, with just as much awe inspiring beauty and lethality."

"Never going to happen, but continue," he chuckled.

Aria smiled. "And that crossbow needed you, like Bianca needs you. Her need was so great that it just…beat at you every moment of every day. You knew that you had the power to turn her into something absolutely amazing. What would you do?"

"I see the point you're trying to make, Hawke, but it just doesn't carry the right weight with me," he earnestly replied, the song ending.

"Then you understand?"

"I understand. Just—be careful. It would crush more than just my heart if you came to harm. How could I write a compelling tale if the hero is destroyed before she even has a chance to do some real good?"

Aria laughed, clapping the dwarf on the shoulder as they walked back to the table. "Why, Varric! That's the stuff of which legends are made!"

"I'll give you that, Hawke. I'll give you that," Varric chuckled, snatching two fresh pints from the table and handing one to her. "To legends!"

"To legends!" Aria chimed, clinking the rim of her stein against his and then draining the entire thing with him.

She wiped the foam from her lips and looked around the tavern, then set the empty vessel on the table. Isabela smiled warmly. Merrill was reading something carved into the table. Fenris leaned forward intently, as if he had been eavesdropping on the entire conversation. Aria did not doubt for a second that his keen elven ears had heard enough.

"I think it is time I retired. I fear the headache that's sure to come in the morning if I don't quit now while I'm ahead," Aria addressed them all.

"Awww, but when is it my turn to dance?" Isabela pouted, a devilish glint to her eyes. She looked to Fenris. "Care to—"

"Not tonight. I think I'm going to retire as well," Fenris curtly replied, finishing his own drink and gracefully rising to his feet.

"I'll dance with you!" Merrill chimed, her eyes eager and her cheeks flushed with the presence of alcohol.

Isabela grinned widely and took the elven mage's hand. "You all go ahead then. We'll have fun without you."

Varric shook his head as they watched the pirate and the pariah ascend the stairs to the tavern's private rooms. "And the dwarf drinks alone."

"Get some rest, Varric. You'll need it to concoct some more of your wild tales," Aria kindly stated, resting her hand on his shoulder.

"Or to stave off whatever cretins you pit us against tomorrow," he teased, resting his hand over hers. "Good night, Aria."

She smiled and turned to walk to the door. Fenris waited for her there. As she reached him, he congenially offered her his arm.

"We are going in the same direction and these streets are fraught with brigands and slavers at night," he said as she accepted his arm. The pretense was unnecessary, but if it made him feel better, she simply played along.

"Thank you, Fenris," she murmured, carefully avoiding his gaze. She realized again that for an elf, he was quite tall. It was rare that someone looked over her head.

"You're most welcome, my lady," he softly replied, opening the door for her.

They walked in silence for a few moments, each looking up at the stars. The moon was not visible in this part of town, but its light was great enough to illuminate the streets before them with its wan, silvery glow. A warm wind wafted the perfume of wild flowers from Lady Elegant's potion stand as they walked past and ascended the stairs towards High Town.

"It is odd to see a dwarf dance so easily with a human," he said at length, a slight chuckle lacing his tone.

Aria smiled and leaned a little closer to him as she steadied herself in their climb. "Varric is comfortable with himself."

"Yes, he certainly is," Fenris replied, his free hand resting on her arm to aid her.

"Have you seen many dwarves in your travels?" she asked, smiling up at him and allowing herself to look into his eyes as they walked.

They stopped walking and he stared down into her eyes for a moment before replying. "I have seen a few, yes. None so slick and cocksure as Varric, to be certain. But he has a good heart and a knack for storytelling."

"That he does," she agreed, allowing him to lead their walking again. She stumbled a little and began laughing. "I'm so sorry. I think I had a few too many."

Fenris chuckled. "You're always so quick to apologize. Why is that?"

"I honestly don't know. I just—hate being a bother to anyone."

"You're no bother, Aria," he quietly stated, steadying her again.

"I'm quick to apologize and you're quick to dismiss my…transgressions. Why is that?"

"They aren't transgressions. Though you are an extraordinary person, there is no reason for you to apologize for being normal," he murmured, holding her closer as they alighted the top step leading to Hightown.

"Normal," she snorted. "I don't think there is such a thing."

He chuckled warmly and steadied her again as they turned towards the estates. "No, but there are—parameters."

She laughed bitterly. "Parameters are measures for control. I don't much care to be among the controlled."

"Nor do I, my lady," he agreed, his tone just as bitter.

"You more than almost everyone I know," she said, stumbling again and almost dragging the both of them down as she almost fell.

"Varric said something about Aveline meddling as a means to thank you," he said as they righted themselves.

"Ah that. I knew you were listening," Aria softly stated, focusing hard on the gateway before them to steady her whirling senses. "What all did you hear?"

"Everything you said, everything the guard said, everything Varric said," he replied, his voice deepening.

"Fenris—"

"I know my stance on mages is a deterrent to you. I know my place in this world and I won't try to upset that balance for my own selfish reasons," he somberly interjected.

"Your stance on mages is understandable and expected. I'd be the same in your shoes," Aria countered. "And what do you mean about your place in this world?"

"Look at me, Aria. I'm an elven fugitive. I've already upset the balance by refusing my place," he replied, stopping and turning her to face him fully.

"Now you sound like the Arishok. Would you go back?" she quietly asked.

"Never," he bitterly spat.

"Then that was not your place, Fenris. Your place is here. Now. Doing whatever it is you desire to do. That is your place. Not what someone else decides," Aria passionately defended.

He hooked her arm again and they resumed walking, her estate door in view. "It heartens me that you say that."

"Mmm. It does?" she asked, swaying a little on her feet. "Oh Maker. I need to go to bed."

"It does. Is Bodahn in to help you to bed?" he asked, stopping again and once more steadying her, his arm around her waist.

"Probably, but don't wake him. I'll just…crash on the sitting room sofa," she drunkenly replied, the full effects of the alcohol slamming into her. "You know, I could say anything I want right now and it wouldn't matter."

He quietly laughed, his voice a deep rumble in his throat. "You say what you want regardless, Aria."

"Not always," she giggled, sitting down on the ledge of a flowerbed. She was too dizzy at the moment to continue. "If I did, there would be a war. Or at least a good fight or two."

"I'm never opposed to a good fight," he chuckled, sitting next to her.

"Oh, I think you would be to this one."

"Why?"

"I don't know. I can't really say," she hedged, still possessing enough sense not to remove her thoughts' filter completely.

"Then tell me one thing," he gently pressed, leaning back against the tree that stood in the center of the enormous flowerbed and tilting his head sideways to look at her. "When Varric was talking about Anders and me, was he warning you to not get involved with either one of us?"

She mulled it over for quite a long time. She looked up at the stars once more, trying to collect her thoughts well enough that what she had to say would be coherent enough for him to understand.

"Yes and no. He just wants me to make a choice that I can live with."

"Aria, I'm not going to warn you away from me. And I will say that it's really no secret that I find you…irresistible," he said slowly.

"I have a feeling there's a 'but' coming on," she groaned, leaning back and falling off the flowerbed ledge into a bush.

Fenris laughed heartily, an odd sound coming from him, and pulled her back up into a sitting position. "Perhaps, but let's not dwell on it tonight. It's enough to know that I am at least winning your favor."

"At least," she grunted as he hauled her to her feet. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Aria, you are drunk. I highly doubt you'll even remember this conversation when you wake," he hedged her query.

"I'm not _that_ drunk," she said, burping. "Ugh. I'm so sorry."

"And yet you prove my point," he chuckled.

"I tell you what—tell me something now that you don't think I will remember, and ask it of me tomorrow," she grunted, rising unsteadily to her feet.

"I'm not willing to make such a gamble," he softly replied, also getting to his feet.

"You're no fun," Aria grumbled, stumbling towards her door, which was still at least fifty yards away.

He trotted to her side and took up her arm again, leading her closer to her door once more. "I am fun in my own right," he defended. "I'll strike you a bargain. You tell me something and I'll tell you something. If you don't remember, I'll forget it. If you do remember, well… We will just have to go from there."

"A bargain. Hmm. What would I only tell you if I was drunk?" she giggled, swaying against him.

He caught her and held her to him, looking down into her eyes. He smoothed her flyaways away from her face and she smiled at him. Her tawny eyes shimmered in the moonlight, her silvery hair dazzling.

"Actually, I think you should go first," she murmured, lost in his eyes. The warmth and dizzying effects of the alcohol heightened the feelings she had for him, feelings she really couldn't express. Feelings that so many would hate her for having, that few would forgive her for.

"Alright," he softly conceded. "I don't think I deserve to be here, holding you like this, especially in your current state."

Aria giggled quietly. "Alright then, I think you're wrong. And I think there's no one else I'd rather have here, holding me like this, in any state."

Laughter bubbled in his throat again and she catalogued it in her mind as her new favorite sound. "Now we'll see if you remember saying that, tomorrow."

"I'll remember," she gently replied, touching the side of his face with her hand.

He covered her hand with his. "I think that I hope you do."

"I will," Aria whispered.

"Let's get you inside," he also whispered, leading her once more toward her house.

They stopped outside the front door. Aria covered his hand as he reached for the door handle. Fenris looked back at her, his silvery hair sliding over one of his eyes, his gaze questioning. She traced one of the lyrium brands on his chin with her forefinger, marveling at the beauty of it.

"Will you—be ok?" he asked after a moment had passed.

"I'll be fine," she replied, casting her gaze downward.

He caught her chin in his hand, drawing her face back up. "Aria…"

"Yes?" she airily asked, her eyes darting to his lips then back to his eyes.

"Good night," he murmured, releasing her chin and opening the door for her.

"Good night, Fenris," she replied, looking down and entering the doorway, not wanting him to see the bitter disappointment that washed over her. He closed it for her, keeping his gaze downcast.

Aria threw the bolts to lock the door, then stumbled over to her arm chair by the fire in the great hall. Sandal's snores reached her ears, but it was the only sound in the mansion. She stared at the dying flames for a good long while, trying to make sense of everything that had happened in the past few months alone.

Sighing, she wobbled over to the stash of firewood by the hearth and threw a few good-sized logs in. She grabbed a large bottle of spirits that Aveline had gifted her from the shelf next to the hearth and sat back down. She used her dagger to uncork it and took a giant, appreciative swig. It burned all the way down her throat, stinging so much that tears ran down her cheeks. Those tears opened the flood gates for more.

She couldn't contain it all anymore. Taking another long, hearty draught from the bottle, she allowed herself to weep. She wept for Carver, her brother who had not even begun to live as a man. She wept for Bethany, who was now in the clutches of the two warring powerhouses in Kirkwall. She wept for mother, who had lost so much in her life and still remained strong and thankful. She wept for Varric, whose own brother had left him for dead. She wept for Merrill, the poor Dalish who just couldn't understand the danger she faced with her preoccupation with history and demons. She wept for Anders, as she watched Justice slowly erode away the man he'd once been. But lastly, she wept for herself and for Fenris.

Aria was so tired. Bartrand's betrayal had stunned her. The expedition into the Deep Roads had left her weary, footsore, and emotionally drained. Coming home and losing her sister to the Circle had been a knife twisted straight to her heart. She should have taken her into the Deep Roads. Then Bethany might still be free of the Circle.

But the biggest contributing factor to this breakdown was Fenris. She wanted him so much, like nothing and no one she'd ever wanted before. Her heart shattered with the depth of her feelings for him. His eyes haunted her. His plight beat at her. She could see the good in him, see what he could become if only he'd just let go of some of that hatred. She wept for the pain he had endured, for the life that he had known before. She fought to make him see how much he had to offer, if he'd just allow himself. Though he rarely spoke of anything but his hatred for magic, she knew he was seeing the good sides to it, as modeled by her sister. She knew that he could be one of the greatest people to ever walk the face of this planet.

Aria dropped the empty bottle when she heard footsteps on the stairs. It rattled along the stone floor, deafening in the comparative silence of the mansion. It stopped with a loud, dull "thunk" when it hit the leg of her writing desk. The feeble light of dawn filtered through the windows upstairs. She drunkenly lifted her head to see her mother alighting the bottom step of the stair case, her robe tucked snugly around her, her eyes filled with worry. Leandra saw the look on her daughter's face and she trotted hastily over, tears springing to her own eyes.

"Mama, I'm so sorry," Aria sobbed against her shoulder as the matriarch enveloped her in her arms.

Leandra smoothed her daughter's hair and held her. "My child, you have nothing to be sorry for. I'm so proud of you."

"I just…I can't…" Aria sobbed brokenly, unable to put all the thoughts and emotions into any semblance of words.

"Shhh, Aria. Let's get you to bed, hmm? Everything will look much rosier in the morning," Leandra gently said, helping tug her drunk and weary child to her feet.

Aria sniffled and looked up at the great windows above them as they climbed the stairs. "It is morning."

Leandra smiled and pointed to the glow of the dawn on the walls opposite the windows. "And see? Much rosier already."

Aria laughed and sniffled again, swiping drunkenly at her eyes and snotty nose with her free arm. "Yes. Yes it is."

"Come on child, let's get you to bed. You've been running so hard for so long, you don't know whether you're going or coming anymore," the matriarch kindly murmured, helping Aria through the threshold of her room.

Leandra fetched her nightgown while Aria undressed, handing it to her as soon as she was ready. They sat at the foot of the bed, Leandra pulling the pins from Aria's hair. She grabbed the brush off the nightstand and combed through the few snarls in her daughter's long, silvery tresses. After a few moments, she pulled back the blankets for her devastated child and tucked her in, as though she was just a little girl again.

"Mama?" Aria sleepily asked as her mother strode slowly towards the door.

"Yes?"

"When you left with Papa, were you worried about what everyone else thought of you?"

Leandra turned and came back into the room, sitting on the side of the bed and tucking one of Aria's stray locks behind her ear. "At first. But I loved him, and he loved me. I wouldn't trade any of it away for a different story. Why do you ask?"

"I'm too drunk to remember this I think, but—Mama, I'm in love."

Leandra smiled. "With that dashing, brooding, magic-hating elf?" she said, her voice trembling with laughter.

Aria groaned. "He's not as bad as everyone thinks. You just have to work a little harder to get to his core. He's good at his core, Mama. I can see it."

"Birdie," she said, using her daughter's shortened childhood pet name, "If you love him, that's all that matters. What other people think does not. You have to live with your choices, not them." She bent and kissed her child on the forehead. "Sleep now. No more tears are necessary. I'm so proud of you and grateful for you. And most of all, I love you."

"I love you, Mama," she sleepily replied, losing the battle with her heavy eyelids.

Leandra watched her daughter sleep for a few moments, marveling at the changes that had come to her face over the past few years. She was no longer a child. She was a hardened, noble, and strong young woman. She was well-loved and well-hated. Leandra allowed a few tears to fall down her own cheeks. She really was so very proud of her little girl. Birdie had worked so hard and given their family so much. Smiling, she adjusted the blankets over Aria's sleeping shoulders and retreated to her own chambers across the hall.


	22. Chapter TWENTY-ONE

**Chapter 21**

_A/N: Because three years is a long time to wait, I'm adjusting the time tables. How could Hawke and Fenris go 3 YEARS not talking much to each other when they're obviously enamored with one another? Didn't make sense to me, and since this is fan fiction, I reserve the right to make it make sense. ;) Anyway, enjoy the telling. Much more Fenris involvement to come!_

Aria was actually nervous. She hadn't been to talk to Fenris since that night a week ago when he walked her drunk ass home. She'd been kept busy enough by Aveline and Varric to justify avoiding the elf, but she knew it was a foolish endeavor. Her mother looked at her as though she were a wounded animal and Leandra encouraged Aria to go out when it was known that everyone was at the Hanged Man. Aria had refused and instead stayed home reading. Sober.

But this morning, Aria wanted to get some things off her chest. Add to that the fact that the other night, whilst coming home from checking up on Merrill, she'd found a book she knewmight be of interest to Fenris. It was entitled "A Slave's Life", penned by a man named Shartan. Aria knew her lore well enough that Shartan helped Andraste free the slaves. She could use it as an apology for avoiding him as she had.

The sun had just cleared the spires of the Chantry when she emerged from her mansion. Aria had been forced into dressing as the Hightown ladies did at her mother's insistence. She couldn't deny that her mother at least had good taste and knew her daughter's preferences when it came to haute couture. Today, however, Aria donned the dress Fenris had given her for her birthday, which felt like it had been decades ago. The dress was a little tight in the bosom, but Aria guessed that it was designed to be that way. She padded across the square before the Viscount's Keep, then over to the row of estates where Fenris stayed.

As she entered the mansion, she heard Isabela's voice upstairs and she stopped cold to listen intently. While she liked the other rogue, she didn't like how openly she came on to whatever man or woman currently struck her fancy. And, in Aria's eyes, Fenris was hers. She could at least admit that to herself now.

"So the Seneschal's tax collector won't be coming around again, like you asked. Funny story," Isabela's voice echoed down the stairs from Fenris's chambers.

"I'll pass, but thank you for the help," Fenris politely shut her down. Emboldened by Fenris's continued indifference to the pirate, Aria smirked to herself at this and swiftly climbed the stairs towards their voices.

"Spoilsport," Isabela silkily retorted. "Why you want to squat up here in Hightown is beyond me."

"I like the view," Fenris said with a shrug.

"So do I," Isabela said, saucily rolling her shoulder and giving him her trademark vixen, smoldering stare.

Aria made her entrance then, shaking her head when Isabela winked at her in passing. Aria watched the pirate bound down the steps and out of sight before turning to Fenris.

"Nearly a year and no sign of Danarius. I'm beginning to wonder if he's finally given up," Fenris said as she took the chair Isabela had vacated.

"This is his mansion, isn't it? He must know you're here," Aria replied, resting her hands on the desk in front of her.

Fenris looked at her as though he'd just seen her for the first time. His eyes traveled from her hair to feet and a strange light took to them. He cleared his throat before he spoke again, adjusting himself in his chair.

"Would you be surprised to learn that it isn't in fact his mansion?" he asked, letting that little bit of trivia sink in for a moment. "It belongs to a Tevinter merchant, one who has evidently given up on the place. Perhaps he is dead. Perhaps," his tone went darker here, "Danarius killed him. Either way, if Danarius is aware of my presence, he has done nothing."

Aria was silent a moment, pondering this information. She finally looked up and asked, "Isn't this what you wanted?"

"Yes, but..." Fenris replied, then followed a different train of thought. "Tell me, what do you do when you stop running?"

"You build anew. At least, it's what I've done. Though I doubt I'll ever truly be done running," Aria responded to his query.

"There is truly no end in sight?" Fenris gently challenged.

"When I see one, I'll let you know," Aria bitterly chuckled.

"Even so, I don't know how to just...rebuild. My first memory was receiving these markings. The lyrium being branded into my flesh. The agony wiped away everything. Whatever life I had before I became a slave... It's lost." He paused at this, then stood and turned away from her. "I shouldn't trouble you with this." He turned to face her and the pain in his eyes was nearly more than she could bear. "My troubles are not yours."

"You don't know who you were?" Aria asked, intrigued and saddened at this new information. Fenris had never divulged in depth what had happened to him before they met. It was always glossed over, something he was never willing to talk about.

"Fenris was the name Danarius bestowed upon me. His... 'little wolf'. If I once had another name, or a family, then they were taken from me. But...again. This is not your concern."

Aria stood then and took his face in her hands. "I'd like to make it my concern."

They stood in silence, reading each others' eyes. Fenris slid his hands to her waist and drew her closer.

"You're a beautiful woman, Aria. Is there...no one else who has your...attention?" he huskily asked, the reference to Anders not lost on her.

"Do you see anyone else here?" Aria softly challenged, her hands sliding down his neck to rest on his chest.

He gently took her hands in his and backed away, though he didn't let go. "I am an escaped slave and an _elf_," he bitterly said, looking away for a moment. His gaze returned to hers, green fire of self-loathing. "I live in a borrowed mansion. None of those things bother you?"

"And I'm a refugee and a known killer. Does that bother you?"

"You have me there," he conceded, drawing her back to him. "This all is...new ground for me, Aria. I'll have to consider it," he whispered, sighing when her hand touched his face again.

Aria smiled at this, then remembered the book in her satchel. "Well, whilst you consider, I have something for you." She went back to the chair where her satchel rested on the floor and pulled out the book. She handed it to him, smiling even wider.

He took it and seemed completely dumbfounded. "It...it's a book.."

Aria opened it to the first page so the he could look at the title and author. "It's a subject you're familiar with. It's by Shartan, the elf who helped Andraste free the slaves. You know about him, right?"

"A little," Fenris said, his words halting. He was uncomfortable, clearly, and Aria was already preparing to fix whatever she'd done to make him so. "It's just... Slaves are not permitted to read. I've...never learned."

Aria beamed at him, seeing her way to make it right. "It's never too late to learn."

"Isn't it?" he asked almost bitterly. "Sometimes I wonder. I don't want to seem ungrateful. I do appreciate the thought. I've always wanted to learn more of Shartan; perhaps this is my chance," he said with a smile.

Aria bounced up and down on her toes. "When shall we start?"

"I haven't anything planned today," he said, smiling at her and taking her hand. He brought it to his lips and placed a searing, sweet kiss across her knuckles. "Let me put some things away, and I'll join you shortly at your home."

"I will see you there," Aria said, feeling her cheeks flush. He escorted her to the door and embraced her before she departed.

Aria felt as though she was walking on air the whole way back to her own estate. She fought the urge to skip and jump like an impish school girl and actually returned the greetings the Hightown ladies paid her as she walked past. One commented that she seemed in a fine mood for once. Had she really been that gloomy?

As soon as she stepped inside, her mother greeted her. The woman wore a fine day gown of pale spring green and her lavish white fur cape.

"Going out?" Aria asked her, kissing both of her cheeks in greeting.

"I've been invited to tea," Leandra replied, her eyes girlish. "Will you join me?"

Aria smiled. "I must decline. Fenris will be stopping by for reading lessons."

"Reading lessons? I figured with as intelligent as he is..." Leandra mused, but Aria cut her off.

"He was a slave, Mama. They aren't allowed to learn to read."

"Of course, child," she said, cupping her daughter's face. "Do enjoy yourself, hmm?"

"I will try," Aria chuckled, not missing the innuendo implied by the wink her mother gave her.

Leandra left then and Aria went upstairs to her study to ready for Fenris's visit. She gathered some blank parchment, an empty leatherbound journal, some quills, and a few pots of ink. She also went back out to the library to peruse her selection for something suitable for Fenris to learn.

A few moments later, Bodahn called from downstairs. "Ah, Mistress Hawke? There's an elven gentleman here to see you."

Aria bounded down the steps and met Fenris in the common room. He took both of her hands as she offered them, and smiled tentatively.

"Don't worry," she said, reading his self-doubt in his eyes. "We all had to start somewhere."

Aria led him up the stairs, hand in hand, to her study, pleased that he'd brought Shartan with him. He looked at the statue over the mantle and couldn't quell the shudder that went through him.

"What?" she asked, following his gaze.

"They have statues much like that in Tevinter. Old god relics," he replied with distaste.

"Ah that. It's mother's. She dragged it out of the basement—or rather, she had Bodahn drag it out of the basement. Apparently Grandfather was fond of them."

"Strange thing to be fond of," Fenris quipped, a hint of laughter in his tone.

"We all have our quirks, I suppose," she nervously laughed, leading him to the writing table. They sat facing each other and Fenris put the book down, opened to the first page. "I have other works, that would be easier to start with, if it please you."

Fenris smiled wryly. "I appreciate the thought, but I rather like the idea of starting to learn from Shartan, if it isn't too much trouble?"

It wasn't like Fenris to back down from a challenge, and he was true to form here. He was humbled at present, feeling quite at the disadvantage. He hated to appear weak to Aria, but at the same time, this was an opportunity to get to know her on a new level. Instead of comrade, instead of warrior-at-arms, she was stepping into the role of teacher. He could think of no one else he'd rather learn from, and his greatest desire at this moment was to prove an apt pupil.

"Before we start reading, we need to learn the alphabet. These symbols each have their own sounds and together, they form the words we see and speak," Aria began then, smiling and gently closing the book.

"I understand," Fenris said with a nod, watching as her fingers deftly snatched a piece of parchment and a quill.

Aria dipped the quill in the ink and scrawled the first symbol, a letter "A". And thus, their first lesson began. They spent the rest of the morning learning the letters and their sounds, Fenris proving to be a very quick study indeed. Bodahn interrupted them with lunch, which they consumed together in the common room.

Fenris finished eating before Aria and went to the table where Bodahn kept letters addressed to her. He looked at them all, then grabbed one and brought it over to where she sat.

"This—this is your name?" he asked, pointing to the greeting at the top of the letter.

"These four letters here," Aria replied, noting each one in turn.

"A-R-I-A. Ah-rrr-iii-ah. But, the letter 'I' doesn't make the sound 'eee'," Fenris stated, puzzled.

"Some of the letters make different sounds, depending on how they're placed. That's a lesson for another day, I think," Aria giggled, taking the letter. It was one from Bethany.

Fenris sounded out the scrawled name at the end of the letter from where it rested now in Aria's grasp. "Bet-han-why... Oh! Bethany!" He turned to her, slightly confused, but then he smiled. "I guess the Hawke family defies every rule they come across, even with their names."

Aria burst out laughing at this and stood to hug him. "You'll be even further confused by how Hawke is spelled."

"How is Hawke spelled?" he asked, truly curious, his head tilting slightly to the side.

Aria broke their embrace to lead him back upstairs to the study. Sandal cleared their dishes and Bodahn winked at Aria when she reached the top of the stairs. Maker have mercy, she hoped he didn't talk to Varric often. But then, she thought, let them talk. She didn't need to hide anymore. All her secrets were in the open. She suddenly didn't care who knew about Fenris being here, and she didn't care what they said about her as a result.

Fenris sat immediately back down at the desk and grabbed his quill. He dipped it in the ink and let it hover over the paper. "Huh—awww-but there's no letter for that sound," he said, scribbling out the H he'd written. He looked expectantly at Aria.

She strode easily over, and guided his hand in making the H, then the A, and stopped at the E. Fenris puzzled over this a moment then looked at her. "You make absolutely no sense."

Aria laughed again and took her seat across from him. "When you combine some letters, their sound loses its individual pronunciation and a new sound is formed. A and W produce the sound 'awww'," she explained. "The 'E' is silent. I couldn't tell you why myself."

"Does my name defy grammar?" Fenris jokingly asked her, but before she could respond, he started writing it out for himself. "Fff-eh-nnn-rrr-iii-sss." He handed her the parchment and she smiled broadly. "Is that right?" he asked when she was quiet, looking at his handwriting for too long. For someone who had never written his own name before, his handwriting was beautifully precise.

"Spell it out loud for me," Aria gently commanded, pointing to each letter as he said it.

"F-E-N-R-I-S," he said, then smiled.

"That's you," Aria laughed.

"I have a written name," he said in awe, then wrote it again for good measure, and again. "I can sign for things now. I can..." He looked up at her then, the light in his vibrant green eyes new to her. It amazed her that he could express so much with just his eyes. "Thank you, Aria."

She didn't know why, but her own eyes began to mist and she could only smile in response, taking his hand in hers and squeezing.

"Have I offended you?" he suddenly asked, abruptly coming to her side. He knelt next to her and cupped her face.

Aria shook her head vehemently. "No, I'm just... Proud, I guess," she managed, looking deeply into his eyes.

"Proud?" Fenris quietly questioned, his thumb gently stroking her cheek bone as he still held her face.

"Yes. Proud. Of you," Aria answered, her own hand going to his face, smoothing his cheek with a soft touch.

"You're...proud of me?" he asked, his voice quieter still, but deeper. Huskier.

"Yes, Fenris. I'm proud of you," she whispered.

"Do you remember... What we talked about after Varric's homecoming party?" Fenris asked then, a hint of pain stinging his words.

Aria blushed but she kept her eyes on his. "I think there's no one else I'd rather have here, holding me like this, in any state."

Fenris's breath caught in his throat. She'd said the words verbatim. Maker, he'd believed she had in fact forgotten, that's why she hadn't come to see him, why she'd been avoiding him. He thought it had been involuntary, but knowing that she remembered, it sent him drowning in a tidal wave of emotion he'd never felt before.

He was bursting at the seams with joy that she remembered those words, words that had hit him straight in the chest and kept him buoyant for days following. He was angry that she had denied him her company for so long after that admission. He was flying now, because here she was, completely coherent, her wits about her 100% and saying the same thing. She meant it. And she'd said she was proud. Proud... Of him. Her pride didn't come from what she'd done to him, what she'd inflicted on him, from keeping him down. Her pride in him came from lifting him up, challenging him to challenge himself.

"Did I say the wrong thing?" Aria shakily asked when he finally drew in a deep breath.

If ever there was a right time and a right place, Fenris knew this was it. He took both her hands and rested them on his shoulders, then cupped her face once more in his hands.

Aria saw stars for a moment behind her closed eyelids then it registered that his mouth was on hers, rough at first, then gentler, engaging hers in the most beautiful, erotic dance. Her lips responded hungrily. Her heart hammered against her sternum so hard she thought she'd surely die. If this was death, she'd gladly succumb to it.

He pulled away abruptly then and she struggled to lift her heavy eyelids. He'd just sent her to another plane of existence with one kiss. A kiss that had taken far too long to occur, but she was happy they'd waited. No one had ever kissed her like that and she was sure that had she been standing, he'd have had to hold her up. Aria couldn't bring herself to look away from his eyes. Hungry, aching, consumed by the same fire that roared within her.

"Maker, help me," he breathed, caressing her face. He touched his lips to hers again, this time enveloping her in his embrace, his hands finding her hair, his fingers buried in the silvery tresses.

Aria didn't want this to stop. Ever. He was warmth, passion, beauty, wit, and goodness all rolled into one hell of an attractive package. She didn't care that he was an elf, that he had no title, that he had nothing but himself. When she looked at him, she saw who he was on the inside, not what bounds society had placed on them both.

She whimpered softly when his tongue slid over her bottom lip and touched her own. Aria arched her body against his and drank of his mouth deeply, equally giving of herself to him. She didn't know how long they fell together in this state of absolute bliss, but when he pulled away, she felt as though she'd just emerged from a deep, beautiful, dreamless sleep.

"So... I take it you're done considering?" she playfully asked, kissing the tip of his nose.

Fenris smiled. "I'll take any trouble you want to give me."

"Likewise," Aria whispered in kind.

"I've been kissed before, but never like that," he blurted, nuzzling her neck. "Was it as earth-shattering an experience for you?"

Aria airily laughed at this, her fingers going through his hair while his breath and lips feathered the sinew of her neck. "Earth-shattering is an understatement, I think."

He chuckled warmly and stood then, returning to his seat across from her. "Shall we continue with the lessons?"

Aria pressed her palm to her forehead and took a few deep breaths. "If you wish."

"Yes. I do wish. And perhaps, when I spell or read something correctly, you could reward me with a kiss?"

"You have yourself a deal, messere," Aria laughed.


	23. Chapter TWENTY-TWO

**Chapter 22**

Aria had learned to dread it when Aveline called on her at home. Today was no different. The carrot-topped Guard-Captain had come to her as a messenger for the Viscount, who wanted her to report to his office as soon as she was able.

She quickly put on her light armor and strapped her daggers to her back after Aveline left. Bodahn questioned her attire and wished her well should she see battle. Truth be told, it'd been far too long since Aria had worn the garb. It had actually gotten looser on her, a testament to how much she'd let stress and anxiety rule her.

Aria was just stepping off her door step when Fenris greeted her. "We're going to have to put lessons on hold today," she groused as he strode up, his questioning gaze immediately taking in her battle-ready accoutrements.

He sighed. "May I deposit these inside and join you?"

"I have a feeling I'm going to need your help," Aria replied sadly.

Fenris smiled at this and went inside, where Bodahn was quick to take his things. He even gave the elf an enormous, lethal great sword from Aria's collection to take with them. Together, they strode purposefully up to the Keep.

"What's happened?" Fenris asked as they lightly bounded up the steps together.

"I don't know the details quite yet, but Aveline informed me that Viscount Dumar has summoned me," Aria answered, smiling shyly when Fenris's hand caught hers at the top step.

They walked through the enormous double doors of the Keep and quickly made their way to the Viscount's personal office. Aria didn't let go of his hand until they reached the seneschal. He escorted just her inside, refusing to acknowledge Fenris at all. Seneschal Bran regarded her with a look of haughty, deep-loathing when the doors closed after them.

"Problem?" Aria snipped at him, challenging him to say something about the elf.

"None at all, messere," Bran sniveled, though his eyes spoke the opposite.

The Viscount handed Aria a letter he'd received just this morning. The Arishok had asked for her by name, refusing to allow any other human into the Qunari compound until she complied. The Viscount was deeply distressed at this turn of events, and he feared all out war was imminent.

She grumbled to herself as she left the office. "All I want to do is live in peace. But no, Hawke, go rescue mages. Hawke, go die in the Deep Roads. Hawke, help me with this little problem. Hawke, go talk to the scary Qunari because he's a dick to everyone else. Can't I just get fat and live off my spoils? Is it too much to ask? Sweet Andraste, this city will be the death of me." She threw her hands up in the air, then kicked the door jamb for good measure as she went through. The seneschal glared at her, but wisely said nothing.

When she reached the landing, she was not surprised in the least that Aveline had joined Fenris to wait for her.

"Well?" the Guard-Captain immediately prompted when Aria reached them. "Out with it."

Aria glared at the chevalier-want-to-be, her amber eyes spitting sparks. "Is everyone done ordering me around today? Since when did I become everyone's go-to for their rotten dirty work?"

Aveline grinned and slapped the rogue on the shoulder. "Since you stepped off the damn boat. No one can do the things you do, and get away with them. What did the Viscount want?"

Aria looked to Fenris who curiously arched a brow at her. She sighed. "We can't talk about it here. Your office?"

"Indeed," Aveline said, immediately turning on her heel.

Fenris's hand rested at the small of Aria's back as they entered the office, a gesture of support. Aveline regarded the action with a curious gaze.

"You would do well to be a little less—open," Aveline addressed Aria and Fenris.

"Piss on it," Aria spat, but Fenris took a couple steps away from her. Aria smiled sadly at him then rounded on the Guard-Captain. "The Arishok asked for me by name and refuses to deal with anyone else."

Aveline pinched the bridge of her nose in trepidation and squeezed her eyes shut, a deep, worrisome sigh whistling out between her lips. "Maker, this is bad."

"You're telling me," Aria groused, taking a seat in the chair at Aveline's desk. Aveline sat in her own and motioned Fenris to sit in the other vacant chair next to Aria.

"Did he give any inclination as to what he wants you for?" Aveline queried.

"The Arishok is never very forthcoming about his motives. Hence why he's still even in this blighted city," Aria grumbled.

"Something binds him here," Fenris contemplatively added. "Or else he'd have already started invading."

"What? Maker, they've been here two years. They hate it here. We don't want them here. What could be so Maker-damned important?" Aveline asked, fuming.

Aria put her head down on Aveline's desk, none too gently. "I guess we have to go find out," she said, her breath fogging the lacquered hardwood surface, her voice muffled. "Maybe I should take him a kitten. Everyone softens at the sight of kittens."

"He'd probably use it for target practice or eat it," Aveline snidely replied, a slight smile spreading her thin lips when Fenris chuckled at this.

Aria sat up and leaned back a little in the chair. "You're probably right. I'm not going in there alone. You two at least are coming with me. Should I go get Varric?"

"With his connections and his savvy, he's a wise choice," Fenris approved.

Aveline nodded. "Yes. Hawke, go get Varric. I'll meet you at the Qunari compound and we can tackle this mess together."

"Just—let me do the talking at first, ok?" Aria pleaded. "Afterall, he did ask for me."

Aveline nodded and Fenris and Aria took their leave. They trotted the whole way to the Hanged Man. Aria waved at Isabela at the bar before they raced up the stairs. The other rogue looked curious, but she did not leave her post.

"Hawke! Elf! To what do I owe the pleasure?" Varric asked, standing as his comrades entered.

"Don't be too happy to see us," Aria good-naturedly said, grasping the dwarven merchant prince's forearm in greeting. "We've an errand to run, posthaste if you please."

Varric sighed and grabbed Bianca and his well-worn leather duster without pause. "What are we walking into now?"

"The Arishok has demanded an audience with Hawke, via the Viscount," Fenris filled him in as they bounded down the steps into the bar proper.

"Shit," Varric said, holstering Bianca on his back.

"My thoughts exactly," Aria growled.

Aria filled him in on the details as they made their way down to the docks, where the Qunari compound was located. Aveline waited for them outside the gate. The guard there saw Hawke and immediately granted them entrance.

Aria hated the Qunari compound. She disliked their glares and their indifference towards humans in general. Not everyone could be born with brute strength and horns on their head. But trying to get that through their overly thick skulls was an exercise in futility. The biggest thing however, that Aria didn't like, was the fact that she was terrified of the Arishok. She'd fought Tal Vashoth, the defectors of the Qun, before and come out on the winning end. She never wanted to have to face the Arishok in battle.

"Serah Hawke," the Arishok almost purred, sending the hairs up on the back of Aria's neck as her party halted just before the steps that led up to where the Arishok sat.

"Messere," Aria congenially stated, giving a slight bow.

"Last we met, I did not know your name. Did not care to. You have changed your fortune over the years. The Qunari have not. I offer a courtesy, Hawke. Someone has stolen what he thinks is the formula for gaatlok. You will want to hunt him," the Arishok smoothly stated, his eyes regarding her with much less disdain than they had in her past dealings with the monster.

Aria sighed, remembering the slippery dwarf who'd been after the bombs the Qunari possessed. She didn't want to deal with Javaris Tintop again. She knew she should have just killed him when she had the chance.

"Excuse me, but that sounds like quite the feat," she said, pandering to the Arishok's glaringly evident sense of pride.

"It was allowed," the Arishok replied. "The stolen formula was a decoy. Saar-qamek—a poison gas, not explosives. A small amount is dangerous to your kind. But if made in quantity, perhaps by someone intending to sell it..." He trailed off, looking to Hawke to connect the dots.

"That merchant—Javaris," Aria said with bitter celerity.

"Would he be cautious, or would he assume success and make enough to threaten a district?" he continued, a slight, vicious smile lighting his lips. He licked them, then repeated, "A courtesy, Hawke. You will want to hunt him."

"How dangerous is this Saar-qamek?" Aveline interjected and Aria shook her head slightly, trying to keep the Guard-Captain from inciting the Arishok. They were too much alike and Aveline didn't have the horns to go head to head with him.

The Arishok looked at the redheaded warrior with open distaste, and instead of speaking to her, he answered her question by talking to Aria. "It is not a threat to Qunari. For your kind, it is as dangerous as those who breathe it."

"Can you elaborate?" Aria pressed before Aveline could make this any worse. The Guard-Captain glared at the rogue but held her tongue.

"The gas kills. But first, it turns allies against their own in blind rage. So, the greater the skill of those sent against us, the more dangerous they become to their own people."

Aria shook her head. "Hard to control at the best of times."

"It is no longer our problem," the Arishok replied almost happily. If he could indeed express that emotion. Aria doubted it.

"I appreciate you bringing this to me," Aria diplomatically stated, inclining her head.

"I have long thought this city would destroy itself. This will only hasten the inevitable. Panahedan, Hawke. I do not hope you die," he replied, also inclining his head.

They left then, Aria eager to put as much distance between them and the Qunari as possible. She didn't relent until they were back in Varric's room at the Hanged Man.

"We have to get out in front of this, and fast," Aveline said, almost out of breath. Varric closed his door and motioned them all to sit at the enormous table in his common room.

Aria rubbed her armored arms as though the gesture would warm them. She hated being terrified. She hated more that it showed. Fenris was keeping his distance from her, but his eyes softened when he looked at her. He quirked a half smile for her benefit.

"Where would we find Javaris?" Aria asked Varric, her voice shaking slightly.

"Good question. Coterie would be our best bet. I heard his lots were up for sale in Darktown. Maybe start there?" Varric suggested, smiling at Norah as she brought in a tray full of pints of ale for all of them. Aria was thankful—a drink would settle her fear-stricken nerves.

"I will double the guard postings right away," Aveline said, refusing the pint Norah offered her. She stood and moved to leave. "Hurry, Hawke. Lives may be at stake."

As soon as the Guard-Captain closed the door Aria put her head down on the table and covered her ears with her hands. Varric and Fenris exchanged curious glances.

"Hawke?" Varric said after a moment.

Aria lifted her head and took the pint from the tray. She downed the whole thing in one go and slammed the glass on the table. "I have a very, very bad feeling about all of this."

"You don't say?" Varric chuckled, sipping from his own pint. "Would you like Aveline's as well?"

"Maker, yes!" she sighed in exasperation, taking the unclaimed pint. She drank this one much more slowly.

"I don't think Javaris is the one behind all this," Fenris said then, taking a swig from his glass. "He doesn't seem..."

"Intelligent enough," Varric finished for him.

"Well I didn't want to insult a kinsmen," Fenris said, and Varric chuckled.

"He's no more my kin than Daisy is yours," Varric smoothly replied.

"Bah!" Fenris spat at this.

They finished their pints in relative silence before getting up from the table. "Since we're headed that way, why don't we go get Blondie. I'm sure he's itching to get out of the clinic for a day," Varric suggested as they walked down into the bar. Fenris only grunted in response. Aria nodded in agreement.

"Sure. Because I haven't had enough excitement for today," Aria half-joked.

Varric laughed but didn't say anything more on the matter.


	24. Chapter TWENTY-THREE

**Chapter 23**

It turned out that Fenris was right. Javaris was a pawn, a patsy, someone left holding the bag. The crazed elf who framed him threatened to take out an entire housing community in Lowtown. Aria stopped it from reaching full fruition, however it cost many lives. Aria wearily reported back to the Viscount and Aveline before heading home, her lungs still burning from the effects of the poison gas the elf had released in that neighborhood.

Bodahn informed her of another letter on her desk as she started stripping off her armor. She asked him to have it cleaned, as the gas had left all of it with a yellow-green tinge. She drew several large buckets of water from her well and lugged them inside to heat over the fire. She felt as though _she_ had a yellow-green tinge to her entire person. She was weary, and her fear of the Arishok still kept her pulse thrumming and her hands shaking.

While the water warmed, she decided to pen the day's events in her journal. Isabela had drawn crude stick figures in the margin of her most recent entry. There was a stick figure with enormous ears and well-endowed manhood, another stick figure with large breasts and two daggers, yet another shorter stick figure with a perfectly drawn crossbow and fluffy chest hair, and a surprisingly accurate self-portrait of the dusky Rivaini pirate herself. Aria shook her head at the drawings and flipped back a few pages to find edits done in the margins to her previous entries. She knew the handwriting too well. Varric had taken it upon himself to liven up her documentary of events with grand details and new, witty commentary.

Aria was dipping her quill in the ink to start penning today's entry when Bodahn called for her. She threw on her robe, covering the simple, sheer black nightie she'd donned, then padded barefoot out to the landing that overlooked the common room and foyer of her mansion.

"She'll be with you momentarily. It would seem our mistress had a troubling day," Bodahn was saying to someone who'd entered.

"I just wanted to check on her," came Anders's smooth, charming voice.

A lump suddenly blocked Aria's throat at the sight of the mage and she quickly swallowed it. "Anders? May I help you?" she called, the trill in her voice giving away the frayed edges of her nerves.

Anders bowed slightly at Bodahn and climbed the stairs. Though he moved swiftly, he appeared to do so in slow motion to Aria. When he reached her, he took her hand and led her to her bedroom. Aria was glad mother was sleeping. She didn't need the lecture in the morning about how bad it looked when an apostate led a lady into a bedroom, then locked the door.

"Are you alright?" he asked once the door was closed.

Aria regarded him with a perplexed cock of her head to one side. "Yes? Why, what happened now?"

Anders went over to her hearth where the water was warming. He held his hands out and the flames went higher. Only then did he turn to face her again.

"You're terrified of the Arishok," he quietly said, his warm, chocolate eyes going over her from head to toe, a slight smile quirking his lips when he saw her bare feet.

"Am I so transparent?" Aria groused, hugging her arms about herself for warmth as she sat back down in the chair at the desk.

"No, you hide it well, but after going through hell with you, I know when you're scared. You needn't be," Anders gently said, seating himself in the chair by the hearth.

"It is silly, isn't it? We've fought dragons and darkspawn, demons and blood mages, templars and rock wraiths... And I'm scared of one Qunari," Aria laughed nervously to herself.

"Exactly. If he does decide to be the conqueror that he no doubt is, you can handle him," Anders cheerily said. "And you won't be alone," he tenderly added, his eyes meeting hers fully and the sincerity there nearly broke her heart.

"I would hope not," Aria replied candidly.

"Have you heard from Bethany lately?" Anders said, abruptly changing the subject.

"I haven't, no, but Mother visits her once a week. She said Bethany is doing well. She's mentoring children," Aria answered his inquiry, tightening her robe slightly.

"I'm glad to hear that. Some day, maybe she'll be able to do that in the open air, as a free woman, and not as a slave to the templars," Anders congenially replied.

"Ah, Justice," Aria sighed, shaking her head.

"No, that's my hope coming through," Anders softly stated, his tone registering slight hurt.

Aria shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "Forgive me if this seems a rude question, but—why are you really here?"

Anders sighed and looked down at his hands, which were folded in his lap. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and took a deep, steadying breath. "I just had to be near you tonight. And I had to see if... If the rumors were true."

Aria laughed nervously. "Rumors?"

"Has Fenris been staying here at night with you recently?" His expression was carefully neutral, but the flames in his eyes gave his jealousy and hurt away.

Aria stood so fast she unsettled the chair. It bumped the table and sloshed a small splotch of black ink onto the surface. She quickly blotted it up with a kerchief. "He has been coming here for reading lessons, actually. But he's gone before dark and he certainly doesn't remain here entire nights at a time."

She mentally berated herself for the way she was responding, as though she'd committed a crime. _Why did she feel like this?!_ Maker, she couldn't take any more of this. Everyone in her life was going to rip her asunder until the fragments of her being were small enough to float on whatever wind decided to take them. And she'd never be whole again when it happened.

"It's—it's not my place, I know," Anders said by her ear, his hands gently taking her shoulders. He turned her to face him, his hands skimming down her arms until he caught hers up in them. He placed them on his chest. "It's just that... I lie awake every night, aching for you. Knowing you were here, alone, dealing with everything that's happened in just the past year alone... I just want to know that you're ok."

Aria's heart had jumped into her esophagus. Wasn't this what she really wanted? Someone who cared enough for her to check on her? Someone who held her in their thoughts? Things with Fenris were hot and cold. Anders was a steady, merry hearth, with the occasional shower of sparks. Andraste guide her, for this storm was not one she was ready to deal with.

"I'm fine," she whispered, avoiding his gaze.

"That is all I wanted to know," he also whispered, tilting her chin up. "Would you like me to fill the tub for you before I go?"

Aria's weary body, heart, and mind could finally agree on something. "That would be lovely."

She sat on the bed while he emptied the buckets into the tub. He tested the water and decided it needed to be warmer. His hands glowed red as they rested on the outside of the tub and he whispered something in a strange tongue over the water. It began to bubble slightly.

"There. It should keep its warmth for the next two hours or so, if you should choose to linger. If you add Bethany's soaps, use at most half of what you normally do or they'll overrun your room. Don't fall asleep in the tub; that'd ruin all of the heroic tales Varric has spun about you," he kindly said, striding over to the door. "Hawke can't drown in a bathtub."

"Thank you, Anders," Aria wearily laughed, standing to show him out.

"No, Aria, thank you," he responded, drawing her to him. He embraced her for a moment, his chin resting on her shoulder, his lips near her ear. He whispered something under his breath, but she couldn't tell what it was.

Aria stayed in his embrace for a moment, needing the reassurance more than she could even admit to herself. He gently let her go and left her in her room, leaving her more alone and even more confused than ever.

Aria woke to the sound of someone rapping on her bed room door. The light thuds could have only belonged to her mother.

"Birdie? Are you awake?"

Aria groaned and sat up, then quickly covered herself when the door opened slightly. Her mother's head poked in and the woman regarded her with an uncomfortable smile.

"What is it?" Aria sleepily asked, her voice raspy. She cleared her throat and motioned the woman in.

"What happened? I heard someone tried to murder an entire district with poisonous gas last night. People are blaming the Qunari. They said you were there?" Leandra said, entering the room with a flourish and closing the door behind her.

"Oh that. I suppose word does get around," Aria groaned, laying back in bed, her blankets swaddled around her presently naked form.

"Did you have any ill effects?" Leandra asked worriedly, sitting on the side of Aria's bed.

"No. I'm fine, Mother. Really."

Leandra patted her head, as though she were a small child again, then stood and went to Aria's closet. "What would you like to wear today?"

"Nothing," Aria grunted. "I want to stay right here in my blankets all day."

Leandra laughed at this and shook her head. "No. You're going to get up. You're going to go out. And you're going to enjoy yourself. No fights. No deaths. No poison. No Viscounts or Qunari or bandits or whatever else you normally do. Maker's breath, child. You need to go shopping."

Aria drew her blankets over her head and turned over to lie on her stomach. She could hear her mother rifling through the meager options her closet offered. Her mother padded back over and pulled the blankets down to Aria's shoulders. She gasped when she saw the red design that spread across her back.

"Aria! What is this?" Leandra asked, aghast. Her fingers touched the tattoo.

"Oh, it's a hawk, and it's my rite of passage into the Dalish," Aria grumbled into the pillow.

"Did it hurt?"

"I've had worse."

"How long have you had it?" Leandra gently queried, leaning in to look at the tattoo more closely.

"A month. A year. Maker only knows," came Aria's muffled response.

Leandra made a clicking noise with her tongue and went back to rifling through the closet. "Will your elven friend be here today?"

Aria turned over and sat up again, reaching for her robe. She donned it while her mother's back was turned then went over to grudgingly open her shutters. The brightness of the sun stung her eyes for a moment. She fought the urge to hiss.

"I don't know. He just...shows up," Aria softly replied, looking at the three dresses her mother had laid out on the bed for her. They were tasteful, high-fashion numbers that weren't too unbearable. Her mother knew her well.

"I like the green one best on you. It works best with your skin tone and eyes," Leandra offered, pointing to the mossy green, silk gown in the center of the three choices.

"Mother, what's going on?" Aria suspiciously asked.

"Hmm?" Leandra distractedly replied, digging through the pile of shoes and boots that littered the bottom of Aria's closet.

"Is it my birthday again? Has it been a year already?"

Leandra laughed at this. "No, child. I just don't want you wallowing."

"Wallowing?" Aria asked, perplexed. "Why would I be wallowing? In what?"

"That mage was here last night," Leandra said and Aria's blood went cold.

"Yes but...we didn't... I mean... He was just checking in on me and there was nothing..." Aria sputtered, crumpling the dress in her trepidation.

"Who am I to judge?" Leandra laughed. "I ran away from a life of nobility to live as the wife of an apostate."

"Ugh," Aria grunted in disgust, sitting down abruptly on the bed, so much so that she bounced a couple times.

"For what it's worth, I still like the elf."

With that, she kissed the top of her daughter's head and left the room so Aria could dress. Aria took all three dresses and hung them carefully back up in the closet. She grabbed a pair of black leather breeches, a white peasant blouse, and over them she put on her armor. She then tugged on her best pair of greaves, chest armor, gauntlets, and strapped her trademark daggers in their belt across her back.

When Aria emerged, her mother just shook her head and chuckled before walking down the stairs to get something to eat. Aria took her leave, accepting the hunk of fresh bread and cheese Bodahn handed her before she could walk out the door. She snagged an apple from the tree outside her estate and munched on that while she walked.

Maybe today she'd go call on Merrill and see what was going on in the realm of crazy elven blood mage land.


	25. Chapter TWENTY-FOUR

**Chapter 24**

When Aria reached the alienage, the Dalish pariah was watering some flowers set at the base of the heart tree. Merrill's jewel-like green eyes twinkled merrily at the sight of the rogue and she waved Aria over.

"Are we fighting someone today?" Merrill cheerily asked, inspecting a tulip with delicate hands.

Aria sighed. "Not if I go the rest of the day unprovoked."

"Who would provoke you?" Merrill asked, wide-eyed.

"Anymore? Only very powerful people," Aria bitterly laughed.

"Have you been checking on your vallaslin?" Merrill queried, indicating Aria's back.

"My mother was impressed with it," Aria simply replied, with a slight shrug.

"I like your mother. She has an open mind. Come inside, I'll have a look and make sure it isn't fading or splotching. Sometimes, it does that and it has to be touched up," Merrill chimed, motioning Hawke to follow her into the little hovel Merrill called home.

They went inside and Aria took off the upper body portion of her armor. She unlaced the blouse a little so that it slid enough off her shoulders that Merrill could inspect the tattoo on her back.

"How does it look?" Aria asked after the elven mage prodded it in a couple places.

"It's good, but could do with a little touching up if you're up for it. It will...hurt," Merrill added apologetically.

"After the night I had, I could use a little tension relief. Do what you need, touch it up."

Merrill gathered supplies to make the vallaslin. She used Hawke's blood mixed with a scarlet dye to create the bright, arterial blood red color. When that was ready, she filled an ornate vial with the vallaslin, attached a tiny hollow needle made of silverite to it, and set to work.

Aria sat facing the mirror Merrill had been attempting to fix, her arms draped over the back of the rough-hewn chair. The first bite of the needle stung and Aria couldn't help but smile into the crook of her elbow. She liked the pain; it sang through her nerve endings, chased away her inner demons for the moment and it granted her a sense of clarity and serenity like nothing else she'd ever experienced.

Merrill drove the needle slightly deeper, chanting something arcane beneath her breath, the needle darting under Aria's skin in a blurring, staccato rhythm so fast that the searing burn became constant. Aria did not wince at all. This beautiful pain was a physical release for all the emotional pain she kept locked away in her soul. It was transcendence of a sort, and Aria briefly wondered if there might be something wrong with what she was doing. Normal people didn't need to experience physical pain in order to purge emotional pain, did they?

"I've rarely seen anyone be able to hold so still while they endure this," Merrill softly commented after a few long, silent moments.

Aria chuckled softly. "I actually like the pain."

Merrill nodded, even though Hawke couldn't see her. "I think I understand."

"Do you?" Aria asked, genuinely interested in what Merrill had to say.

"Yes. Sometimes... People get so caught up in keeping secrets, that they have to find a way to physically manifest their anguish."

It was a surprisingly profound comment and Aria wondered fleetingly if the blood mage was reading her mind. She did have a vial of Hawke's blood, afterall.

"You're absolutely correct," Aria quietly stated.

"People ask too much of you. You should do more for yourself. Be happy. There's too much...bad in this world to squander the things that make it brighter."

Aria considered this a moment. "I don't know what makes me happy anymore."

Merrill stepped back and surveyed her handiwork. Satisfied, she placed a soft, clean linen cloth over the entire tattoo and pressed for a few seconds. She removed it with the gentleness of a summer breeze and presented the linen to Hawke.

A perfect replica of the tattoo lay emblazoned on the linen, only this one was made entirely of blood. Aria stared at it for a moment, then handed the linen back to Merrill. She smiled her satisfaction and Merrill fetched a jar of sweet-smelling salve. She slathered a bit of it over the tattoo, then helped Aria gingerly don her armor again.

"Before you go, I have—a slight favor to ask of you," Merrill sheepishly stated as Aria strapped her daggers once more onto her back.

"I am in your debt," Aria graciously replied, resting her hand supportively on Merrill's shoulder.

"The mirror... It's almost finished, I think, but I need an ancient tool from the Keeper to do it," Merrill blurted out, her elvish accent thickening in her duress.

"That mirror is dangerous," Aria softly said. "I know you want to preserve your past for your people, but sometimes, things that are in the past, need to be left there."

"I know what I'm doing, Hawke," Merrill pleaded. "Please, just...go to the Keeper with me. Help me get the aru'lin-holm."

Aria sighed and placed her hands on both of Merrill's shoulders. "Alright, but at the very first hint of danger, I'm smashing that thing."

Merrill nodded mutely at this, tears welling in her gigantic, emerald eyes.

"Hey," Aria murmured, pulling the mage to her for a hug. "I'm not saying I won't help you. I'm just trying to...save you. You can't trust demons for help, lethallan."

Merrill smiled at the elvish term of endearment, happy that Aria had absorbed some of her people's culture. She nodded again at Aria and showed her to the door. Aria trudged out of the alienage, wincing as the leather strap that sheathed her daggers shifted across the tender, inked skin between her shoulders.

Aria was actually quite fond of Merrill; her simple, almost childish view of the world gave her a unique perspective. She just got tripped up in this crazily erroneous way of thinking when it came to demons. Mage blood flowed through Aria's own veins. She knew far too well what blood magic wrought and nothing good ever came of it. She just hoped, for Merrill's sake, that the elf would see that in time to keep it from destroying her.

At least, the venture would give her something to do. Mother was going to drive her crazy playing dress up if she didn't. She walked briskly to Darktown to pay Anders a visit. If she was going to head up the mountain with Merrill, she wanted another mage there who knew about possessions.

There was a line of three or four people waiting to be treated when Aria arrived at the clinic. A sudden pang of remorse hit her when she realized how much Bethany had helped Anders heal the city's poor and sick people. She smiled weakly when his eyes finally met hers. He waved her over and returned to setting the broken leg of a small girl with surprisingly well-made splints.

"I'm glad you came to see me today," he softly stated as the girl's parents escorted her out of the clinic. A pregnant woman stepped up and took her place.

"You won't be when I'm done asking what I need of you," Aria glibly replied, then offered the pregnant woman a smile.

Anders chuckled and put his ear to the woman's belly. "Have the pains stopped?"

"Yes, messere. Thank you. I still have the dizziness and weak spells, though," the woman responded.

"I'm going to put you on bed rest. That baby will be here next week. Do not tax yourself overmuch, or you will lose it."

She thanked him again, took the herb vials he offered, and made her way out the door. A sickly, frail, hunchbacked elderly man stepped painfully forward. He employed a crutch to help him ambulate. He complained of pain in his bones; so deep it was that he could hardly bear to move. Aria watched Anders crush some strange bluish-silver flowers with a mortar and pestle, then he smeared the strangely clear liquid over the man's leg joints and feet. The man seemed instantly relieved and Anders gave him a few vials he'd had stashed of the clear liquid. Once that man had gone, Anders dispersed cough remedies to the remaining people.

Anders motioned Aria to sit at his dining table. He gave her a plate with bread and butter and some dried fruits. After he poured them both glasses of wine, he sat across from her.

"What is it you need of me?" he asked at last, sipping from his glass as he waited for her response.

"Merrill needs to acquire some carving tool of some sort from the Keeper," Aria answered quickly.

Anders sighed at this and pinched the bridge of his nose between his middle finger and thumb for a moment. "She does realize that damned mirror has demon written all over it, right?"

"I don't think that has ever crossed her mind," Aria bitterly laughed, taking a bite of the bread he'd given her. It was deliciously soft and the outer crust was just the right bit of flaky.

"Much as I hate to say it, bring Fenris. If she goes abomination, we're going to need all the brute strength we can muster to keep her busy enough to destroy," Anders groaned mournfully.

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," Aria said, popping the rest of the food into her mouth and quickly chewing it.

"When are we leaving?" Anders asked, finishing his wine. Aria did the same.

"Dawn. I've got to get some supplies packed and check in with Hubert on some mine business," Aria said as she stood. He mimicked her and walked her to the door.

"Are we meeting at the Point?" he queried as she stepped over the threshold into Darktown.

"As always," Aria replied with a smile. She turned and bounded down the steps that led to the mucky street.

"Stop!" Anders suddenly called, jogging to reach her again. He lifted the cloak from her shoulders and saw the freshly touched-up tattoo on her shoulders. "You're bleeding..."

"Oh, Merrill fixed it. Or something," Aria said, wincing slightly as Anders's hands tugged the strap off of her dagger sheaths. He let it drop, then smoothed his hand across the skin. It felt instantly better. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. See you at dawn," Anders amicably replied with a slight bow. He offered her a smile before he turned and went back up the steps into his clinic.

Next stop, Hightown. Aria winced with every thought she had as she ascended the steps towards the city's "noble" district. People either glared at her as she passed, refugees who hated her for her success; or they hailed her as though she were a long lost friend, seeing her as a beacon of hope for their own plights. She wished they wouldn't call her a hero. There was little honor in most things she'd accomplished.

Hubert was waiting for her at the top of the steps. She'd barely had time to acknowledge him before he launched into supposed ramblings of creatures stirring once more in the mines and the even more troubling fact that someone from inside their operation was giving intel to have their caravans raided. Aria agreed to go with him and confront the Fereldan who stood accused of the crime.

It was a taxing venture and Hubert got the Coterie involved. The Coterie was one of the top crime organizations in Kirkwall, and Hubert sought them out for protection. Aria wasn't fond of the agent he was involved with; a bloodthirsty, heartless woman named Lilley.

Aria went with a complement of the Coterie to investigate a lead the Fereldan turncoat had given them, after she rescued the poor sod from Hubert's pitiful fury. She couldn't blame the man; she'd been in his shoes not too long ago, scraping to get by.

Turned out that a man named Brekker was running his own operations outside his allegiance to the Coterie. Lilley left to investigate his involvement after they'd slain the mercenaries who had tried to ambush another of Hawke's caravans.

Aria wearily returned to High Town well after sundown. She stopped by Hubert's modest mansion to inform him of the events and shared a glass of fine Antivan brandy with him. She then went to Fenris's home, but found no one there.

Her mother was waiting for her at the door when she returned home.

"You're covered in blood and dirt," Leandra said as her daughter walked through the door. She clicked her tongue in disapproval.

"I've had a busy day," Aria neutrally replied, allowing Bodahn to take her cloak and daggers from her.

"Fenris is in the study, working on penmanship," Leandra said as they walked into the common room. She went upstairs to her own room after knowingly smiling at her daughter.

Aria took the bowl of mutton stew Bodahn offered her and went up to the study. Fenris sat hunched over the desk, a quill in his hand. He didn't look up when she entered, and ignored her still when she settled herself across from him. Aria surveyed the lines of flowing words that graced half of the parchment page before Fenris.

"You have lovely handwriting," she said after a moment.

"Your mother said as much," Fenris replied almost curtly.

"I'm sorry—what have I done to deserve this coldness?" Aria answered the subdued anger in his voice.

He looked up at her, his verdant eyes cold. "Nothing."

"Well it certainly doesn't appear that way," Aria retorted.

Fenris stood abruptly and paced in front of the fireplace a few seconds. Then he rounded on her. "He was here last night."

Aria shook her head and pounded her fist on the table. "Is that what you're all fired up about?"

He glared at her, cold green fury lancing straight through her. "You evaded the question."

"You didn't ask a question, you made a statement."

"Don't get technical. Why was he here?"

Aria stood and leaned over the table, meeting his gaze full force with her own. "To check on me. He knows when I'm rattled. And yesterday, I was rattled."

"Pah!" Fenris spat, turning away from her. He rested his hands on the mantle, his arms splayed out. His head hung low as he gazed broodily into the fire for a moment. "He's manipulating you. That man...that _mage_ is a master at finding ways to weasel himself in, just enough to prick at everything a person is most sensitive to. He'll find the weakest spot, and then he'll tear at it until he gets what he wants."

"What in the Maker's name are you talking about?" Aria asked, her ire piqued.

"Nothing. I think I'm done with lessons for the evening," he said, returning to the table to clean up his implements. Aria watched him in angry silence.

"I need you tomorrow," she finally said as he made to leave the study.

Her voice was strained and weary. He hated hearing that. She could make his blood boil simultaneously from two completely conflicting emotions. He hated the influence that manipulative conjurer had over her. He hated his own position for not being what she deserved. He loved her for her strength and her compassion. He loved that she defied him and hated her for it, all in the same heartbeat. But those words... Those words would have him bend to whatever her will deemed necessary. And he both hated and loved her for that as well.

"For?" he asked, his tone softening, his shoulders relaxing. He did not turn to face her.

"Just...be at the Point at dawn. Please?"

He rounded on her again and strode over to where she sat once more. He rested one hand on the table, the other going to the back of his neck to relieve the knot of tension that had risen there. He still refused to meet her gaze; mostly for fear she would see his thoughts in his eyes.

"What do you need of me?"

Aria sighed and rubbed at her temples. "Merrill needs a tool from the Dalish."

"For what purpose?" he bitterly asked, his fingernails biting into the wood of the desk's face.

"She wants to restore that Maker-damned mirror," Aria huffed in disgust, slamming a fist on the table. "Don't bother lecturing me with your well-pronounced hate of her. I need you, in case something happens."

"I imagine you've already asked Anders," he snarled.

"Who better to fight an abomination than another abomination?"

He glared at her then through the reckless fringe of his silvery hair, so similar in shade to her own. "Aria, your logic... Is at best, fallible."

"That is why I want you there."

He only grunted in response and made for the door. Aria rested her head in her hands, staring blankly down at the parchment before her. She didn't know for how long she'd sat that way, but when her hand was suddenly enveloped in warmth, she looked up.

Fenris's face was inches from hers. His eyes were a storm of warring emotions and thoughts. She lost herself in them for a breath or two, then looked over at the fire in the hearth. He deftly caught her chin and drew her visage back so he could look into her eyes.

"I will be there," he softly said, then took his leave completely.

Aria sat in the study a long time, watching the flames in the hearth. Mother came in, dressed in her nightclothes and luxurious robe. She sat in the chair Fenris had vacated and inspected his handiwork.

"He is a prickly character," Leandra said after a few more silent moments had passed.

"Hmmmph," Aria snorted, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I take it you're going to be gone a few days?"

"With any luck, that's all it'll take. Hopefully it's just a quick exchange and I can be done with it," Aria said as she stood and stretched.

"Be safe, child. Wake me when you make to leave," Leanrda replied, also standing. She and Aria walked up the stairs to their rooms together, arm in arm. Aria left her at her door with a good night hug and retreated to her own room.

She busied herself with packing, assisted by Sandal and Bodahn. They carried her two rucksacks downstairs for her and she closed her bedroom door after them. Dawn was but a few hours away, and she was going to need every ounce of energy she had to deal with Anders and Fenris tomorrow. Joy of joys.

Aria removed her armour as they made camp just outside the Dalish's current homestead. Two days' worth of hiking and they finally made it. Tomorrow morning, they'd meet with Marethari. Merrill assured Hawke that it would be a quick affair. Aria hoped she was right.

It was unbelievably hot out and the heavy undermail was stifling. Sweat poured off her in torrid rivulets and she was all too aware of how badly she smelled. Her thin cotton camisole clung to her like a second skin. The breeze that wafted down the mountainside was most welcome against her bared flesh. Merrill came up behind her, looking at the tattoo on her back that was now visible.

"It's healing nicely," she said, smiling and offering her a flagon of ice cold water. "Very quickly, too. It amazes me how resilient you are."

"It is, and I may have had a healer's help," Aria agreed as she took a long draught from the proffered canteen, then handed it back to the elven mage.

Fenris sat on the other side of Aria, taking the canteen from Merrill as she offered it. He too took a long drink then looked questioningly at Aria.

"What is that on your back?" he bluntly asked, reaching up to tentatively run his fingers over the ink. He'd seen it before, but had never found the right time or place to inquire after it.

Aria smiled and shivered involuntarily. Goosebumps appeared down her arms at the gesture but thankfully, no one seemed to notice.

"It's a hawk, silly. What did you think it was?" Merrill interjected, baffled by his question.

"I can see that, blood mage. I mean, how did you acquire it?" he said, his eyes still on the design.

"I asked for it," Aria simply stated, leaning forward and unlacing her boots.

"Why would you ask for such a thing?" Fenris queried.

"I did it to become one of the people," Aria softly replied, returning the smile that Merrill gave her.

"Was it terribly painful?" he pressed, touching the design again.

"It was," Aria said. "Very much so."

"But you—chose to have it done?"

"Yes, Fenris."

"That's…very noble," he softly said, his expression contemplative.

"Thank you. I'm truly glad you think so," Aria congenially replied.

"Why the scarlet dye, though?" he asked, finally taking his eyes away from the design and meeting her gaze.

"It has very little dye in it," Merrill answered for her. "It's mostly Aria's own blood."

Fenris grimaced, then nodded sternly. "And you did it as a sign of solidarity?"

"I respect the Dales. They are a good, noble, hearty people. They have suffered much, and yet here they are," Aria said, kicking off the boot she'd just finished unlacing and going to work on the other.

"I have known only little of them. But if they've garnered your respect, they must be worthy," Fenris said, standing and stretching. He looked down at Aria, still more questions in his unfathomable green eyes. "Why did you get it on your back and not your face or arms?"

"Because sometimes it's best that alliances remain hidden," Aria answered him, lost for the moment in his gaze.

"But—if you're considered of the people, why wouldn't you want it known?"

"Because she's an honorary, but not a blood member of the clan," Merrill answered for her again. "Only full-blooded elves who have completely integrated into the Dalish are allowed to have it visible."

"Oh Maker, this heat is going to be the death of me," Anders said as he joined them. He was soaked head to toe, having just come from the waterfall just north of their camp. Aria averted her eyes from his naked form. Merrill blushed and also looked away. Fenris eyed him with unabashed disgust. Anders tugged his robes back on, covering his mostly naked body from view.

"I can think of much worse deaths for you," Fenris growled, turning and stalking towards his tent. He cast the mage one more baleful stare before disappearing behind the tent's flap.

"Well, the heat certainly doesn't make his demeanor any better," Anders sniped, sitting down in the spot Fenris had just vacated.

"I didn't notice any change," Merrill innocently stated.

"Exactly," Anders groaned, watching Aria kick off her other boot.

"I'm going to walk to the falls," Aria said as she rolled her socks down and off her feet. She stood and looked down at both of the mages, "Be back in a little while."

"Alright," Merrill chirped, walking over to their cook fire and setting the wood ablaze. She stood there and watched the flames, mesmerized.

Anders rose to his feet and smoothed his hand over the tattoo on her back, a sweet smile on his lips. "You should show that off more often."

Aria smiled politely, flexing her toes in the grass and enjoying the sensation it left on her bare feet. "It's my secret."

"Then I'm glad to know it," he murmured, grazing her cheek with the back of his hand.

She smiled wryly and walked away, uncomfortable with the affection he was bestowing upon her. In the wake of his requests of her to aid him and the amount of trust he begged of her, she was growing slightly wary and fearful of him, as he foretold she would. Add to this the fact that she had a painfully obvious attraction to Fenris... It made for an unpleasantly interesting triangle. Varric was having a heyday with it, she feared. Especially when Merrill gave him all the details. She was terrible at keeping secrets, Aria had learned.

Sighing, Aria reached into her tent and brought forth her bathing implements, as well as clean undergarments and a clean camisole. She was not putting her armor back on until it was absolutely necessary. She tucked everything into her leather rucksack and walked down to the waterfall.

Tall oaks and ash trees surrounded the river, cooling the air there further. It was serene and beautiful here. She glanced around to make sure no one was watching, not at all sure that she was alone. There could be Dales around, scouting and making sure the shems in the area didn't offer any sort of threat.

With a soft sigh, she set to undressing and quickly waded up to her chest in the water. It was a lovely relief, having the cool water rush over her skin. She began to swim up the current, angling towards the waterfall, holding the pack over her head with one hand to keep it dry.

She quickly bathed and returned to camp. Merrill said watches were not necessary, as the Dales were about. Aria went to her tent after helping Merrill douse the cook fire. She lay there contemplating all the ways tomorrow's quest would go down. Best case scenario, Merrill got the tool she needed. Worst case, Merrill would be possessed and Aria would have to kill her. Aria decided to entertain the former idea as she drifted off to sleep.


	26. Chapter TWENTY-FIVE

**Chapter 25**

The journey was a success, of sorts. Merrill was truly a pariah now. Her people looked upon her as though she had some highly contagious, very nasty disease. They all knew of Merrill's ill-kept secret. In Aria's eyes, they were more than justified for their ire. She was left in the difficult position of keeping Merrill from jumping farther down the rabbit hole while keeping the peace with those who saw her as a perpetually growing threat.

All they had to do to obtain the arulin'holm from Marethari was kill a varterral: A mammoth of a creature with four stony, spider-like legs attached to an arachnid-like body, with an enormous spear of a head. It had taken them nearly two hours of constant battle to take the creature down. With the angered creature slain and the hunters' amulets returned to the Keeper, Marethari produced the arulin'holm, but urged Hawke to disallow Merrill's further obsession with the mirror.

"Reason with her, Hawke. Please, don't let her do this," Marethari desperately begged of Aria as she handed the tool over.

The Keeper disappeared into the Dalish Camp and left Aria to deal with Merrill. Aria slowly turned to face the self-avowed blood mage, trepidation written all over her features.

"Merrill, no good can come of completing that thing," Aria softly stated, her eyes dropping to her feet.

"But you promised! And you are not of the Dales! How can you keep it? That is _mine_!" Merrill snapped at her then, trying to snatch the strange, small instrument from Aria's grasp. The rogue spun and faced her, a dagger drawn.

"I am an honorary of the People," Aria tersely stated, quickly stashing the arulin'holm in her breast pocket. "Which means I have the right. Why can't you see that I'm trying to protect you from yourself? You are your own worst enemy, lethallan."

"Don't you _dare_ say that to me!" Merrill shrilly cried, her voice cracking with rage.

Aria sighed and sheathed her dagger. "If you can prove to me that restoring that mirror will cause no harm, I will gladly give this to you. But you said it killed Fenarel, one of your kinsmen, and infected yet another hunter with the same affliction cured only by becoming a Grey Warden. Its track record speaks for itself, Merrill."

"Listen to Hawke," Fenris said then, his voice stern and his eyes cold. "She's not torturing you. She's saving you. Like your Keeper tried to do. Do yourself and favor and just-"

"You shut up! I hate you! I can't take this," Merrill screamed at Fenris, then turned and disappeared down the trail leading away from the camp.

"Maker, she runs fast," Aria said on a heavy exhale of breath.

"She is on a path to self destruction," Anders wearily stated, falling into step behind Aria and Fenris as they followed their angry, wayward companion.

"You would know," Fenris quipped.

"Enough!" Aria barked at both of them. "I've—had enough fighting for the day. Let's go home, before Merrill decides to bathe Kirkwall in fire and blood."

Fenris sniggered at this, glaring at Hawke through the fringe of his reckless hair. But he said no more. Anders fumed silently, passing them to take the lead down the wending, rutted mountain trail. They trekked briskly down the mountain, making excellent time. By sundown they were almost back to Kirkwall, setting themselves up for a return late in the morning.

It was extremely awkward, and tense, setting up camp with just Anders and Fenris. Aria just wished Anders would make up his damn mind. Time and time again, he had denied her, saying it was his final choice. Time and time again he found a way to put himself back into contention for her affections. While she no doubt found him attractive and she indeed did have feelings for him, her thoughts shifted back to the first time she'd given Fenris reading lessons. That kiss was all she had needed to cement her crazily rampant emotions. She would never turn Anders completely away, but when it came to the realm of her heart, she could admit, if only to herself and no one else, that Fenris reigned as king.

Anders started the cook fire and Fenris went down to the river near camp to fish. Aria settled herself on her bed roll and snagged a book from her pack. It was a compilation of Varric's short stories, many of them starring Hawke from her days in Athenril's service. Others starred Anders in the Deep Roads as a warden, Fenris as a fugitive on the run, and Varric himself as a professional younger brother to a tyrant elder brother.

"What is that?" Fenris's voice issued from the twilight next to her, low and defensive.

Aria jumped slightly, startled, and nearly dropped the small book. She regained her composure quickly, turned down the corner of the page she was on, then crisply closed it. She proffered it to Fenris, who took it and perused the cover.

"Don't bother, I don't think he can read that level yet," Anders sniped from his position near the fire, turning the makeshift spit he'd created to cook the fish Fenris brought back from the river.

"Proves what you know," Fenris growled, not rising to the bait Anders set. "I wonder if Varric has the new guard quarterly out. I've been waiting."

"Don't let Aveline hear you say that," Merrill's voice came from behind them. Aria stood and faced her.

"Look who's returned," Fenris rasped, distastefully eying the other elf.

Aria elbowed him rather ineffectually in the ribs. He glared at her but said nothing. "Care for some river trout?" Aria asked her, indicating the cook fire with a wave of her hand.

"Yes please," Merrill politely said, dropping her pack next to Aria's. "I realized I was leaving you to deal with these two, and that was selfish. And no, I don't want to talk about anything, if that's all right with you."

Aria just nodded, ignoring the color she could feel coming into her ears and cheeks, and settled herself back down on her makeshift bed, using a log for a back rest. Fenris handed her the small book and sat next to her, his eyes on the book.

"Songs of Glory," Fenris said slowly, reading the title embossed in gold on the cover of the book.

"A collection of embellishments by Varric Tethras," Aria laughed, handing the book back to Fenris. "Show me what you've got."

Fenris took the book and opened it to the first story. He began to read quietly aloud. Aria listened to him read, helping him when he struggled with a word. Anders and Merrill silently listened along, Merrill nodded when Fenris mastered difficult words on his own. Anders's face was stoic, his eyes faraway and angry.

Fenris finished reading the tale of Varric's tricky scuffle with a dwarf in the merchant guild, then handed the book back to Aria. She stowed it in her pack. Anders put the fire out and settled his bed roll next to Merrill's. He said nothing as he laid down, turned his back to them, and presumably went to sleep. Aria laid down, using her pack as a pillow, and looked up at the stars. Merrill snored softly next to her, having been lured into sleep by the soft, deep tones of Fenris's reading. Fenris remained seated on his own bedroll, also contemplating the skies.

"This close to Kirkwall, we shouldn't need watches," Aria softly said to the warrior elf.

Fenris turned his head toward her, his kelly green eyes somehow managing to catch the light of the stars. He regarded her for a moment in studious silence, then turned his eyes back to the sky.

Aria sighed and turned onto her side, facing away from him. She closed her eyes and listened to the song of the night winds as it trickled through the trees. A few moments later, she heard Fenris shift, his armour clinking softly as he moved to lay down. Aria held her breath when she felt his hand smooth down her arm, resting when it reached her hip. She turned her head slightly to look out the corner of her eye at him. She couldn't fully read the expression on his sternly handsome face, so she rolled onto her back once more. His hand slid from her hip to her belly in the process, his touch sending her heart skittering.

Wordlessly, he lowered his lips to hers, allowing only a brief exchange before pulling away to look down into her eyes. His hand moved to cup her chin and he lowered his lips to hers again, this time he allowed his tongue to slip over her bottom lip to tangle with hers.

Far too quickly, he retreated again, only to lie next to her. He faced her, his expression unfathomable. "Sleep," he whispered then as he pulled her utilitarian blanket up over her shoulders.

Aria reached up to touch his face, a slight smile played at her lips. She sighed and let her hand slip away, then closed her eyes. Here in the wilderness, they didn't have to operate under false pretenses. They didn't have to worry about the shallow-minded disapproval of noblemen and poor folk alike. Here, they could just... Be.

….

Dawn had just broken when Aria woke. Fenris laid next to her, an arm draped protectively over her hip. Merrill still snored. Anders sat on a log on the other side of the doused cook fire, glaring at Fenris's sleeping form. Aria gently moved his arm and inched her way out of her bedroll. She carefully ignored Anders's gaze as she re-donned her armour.

"So, he doesn't spend the night at your estate," Anders venomously whispered from behind her.

Aria rounded on him, instinctively drawing a dagger. She held it to his throat before she could rein in her battle instincts. She immediately dropped it when she realized how close she came to threatening his life. The look of hurt in his eyes was more than she could take.

"He hasn't, no," Aria tersely quipped as she retrieved the dagger from the dirt and sheathed it on her back once more.

"And yet every time we've gone on the road since after the Deep Roads, you sleep either in his embrace or close enough to touch him. You...love him," Anders whispered.

Aria didn't reply. She set about breaking camp, ignoring the help Anders offered. Fenris woke shortly after the scuffle. Merrill took more effort to wake. The sun was just above the highest point of the treeline when they set off for Kirkwall again.

They didn't go far, however. They were stopped by Tevinters; slave hunters who had come for Fenris at Danarius's bidding. The four companions circled up, ready to deal with this new threat.

"You're in possession of stolen property!" One of the mages accompanying the hired thugs called out from a safe vantage on a rock formation just above them.

"Fenris is a free man!" Aria yelled back as she drew her daggers and swirled them in lethal agitation.

"I told you he would not relent," Fenris venomously stated from next to her. His eyes darted to all the aggressors lining up to challenge them. "I am not a slave!" White light exploded from the markings all over Fenris's body. It was terrifyingly beautiful to witness.

"Hand him over nicely, and we'll spare you lot," another man next to the mage said from off to her left.

"Over my dead body," Aria spat, whipping a dagger at his skull. It buried itself to the hilt in one of his eye sockets, a trademark move of hers.

A nasty battle ensued as the four travelers went head-to-head with the complement of Tevinter slavers. It was well past noon when they finally won the skirmish. Aria sustained numerous injuries, though none were serious. Anders silently healed them all, his gaze kept carefully neutral.

Fenris cornered one of the mages, who had luckily only been knocked out by one of Merrill's spells. He pinned the man on the ground, smashing the mage's head viciously onto the stony ground.

"Where is he?" Fenris demanded.

"I don't know, I swear!" the mage pleaded and blood poured out of his nose. He bled profusely from a cut above his eyebrow as well..

Fenris slammed the mage's head again, hard enough that they all winced in sympathy. "Tell me!"

"I don't know! I came with Hadriana! She's...in the holding caves, nearby. I can lead you to them-"

"No need," Fenris snarled. "I know of the place you speak."

"Please, let me go," the mage begged.

Whatever mercy Fenris might have possessed was not present today. Aria watched in stunned silence as Fenris deftly snapped the mage's neck. He returned to her side, his eyes surveyed the rocky outcrops around them for more threats.

"Hadriana..." he spat, the name a putrid curse on his tongue.

"Who is that?" Aria bluntly asked.

"Danarius's apprentice. She used to deny my meals, hound my sleep... All because she knew I was powerless to stop her."

"You were," Aria gently interjected. "We're not in Tevinter anymore."

"We must go to the holding caves. Now. I know a quick way there," Fenris feverishly stated. He trotted back up the path on which they'd just spent 4 days.

"Maker save me," Aria whispered under her breath. "You're going to be the death of me."


	27. Chapter TWENTY-SIX

**A/N: **_Just a little spoiler... This chapter is the first reason this story is rated M. ;) Enjoy..._

**Chapter 26**

They trekked up the path and headed toward the Wounded Coast, Fenris keeping a blistering pace in his hate-fueled haste. When they ran into resistance about a quarter mile from the holding cave, Aria was all but drained. She was using vials of stamina potion at an alarming rate. They fought two more mages and about 20 armed guards before they finally reached the mouth of the cave. It was early evening then, but at least the holding caves were only about a 2 hour hike from Kirkwall. Aria was bound and determined to eat a delicious meal, take a long, luxurious, hot bath, and sleep in her own bed tonight, Maker damn the consequences.

"We must be careful," Fenris barked as they stopped at the mouth of the cave, after they slew Hadriana's outer defenses. "There were many such holdings once, especially in the mountains, where individual slavers kept private pens. They were designed to protect against raids by fellow slavers. No doubt it's why Hadriana chose this place."

"This is a common thing? Slavers preying on each other, I mean," Aria asked, looking down the ominous mouth of the cave.

"They did. What better way to find slaves, than to steal them?" Fenris seethed. "The holdings outside Tevinter have mostly been abandoned. But they still exist."

Aria turned to Merrill and Anders, who looked dead on their feet. Merrill perked up when Hawke's gaze fell upon her and she nodded her consent to follow. Anders inclined his head politely, snatching a mana vial from his own belt and downing it. Aria turned back to Fenris, whose intense gaze studied her.

"Well, let's go introduce ourselves, hmm? I'm sleeping in my own bed tonight, Void take whosoever gets in my way," she chimed with a naturally lethal twirl of her daggers.

"Let's hope this isn't a waste of time," Fenris rasped, leading the way into the cavern.

The party quickly ascended into the dwarven-made tunnels. On each side of the robustly constructed halls were empty cells. Between the walkway and the cells flowed twin rivers of molten lava. Aria's skin prickled under her armour and sweat began to drip down the back of her neck.

Fenris knelt down, inspecting scuff marks in the thick layer of dust that covered the floors. "They're still here. Good."

"Well, I'm sure they wouldn't want us to keep them in suspense," Aria deadpanned as she looked around them, searching for traps or other potential threats.

When she was certain they were safe for the moment, they pressed on. They entered a recently vacated common room and found an altar at its center. Upon the alter lay the corpse of what could have only been an elven slave, bled dry to fuel his cruel master's demand for power.

"See for yourself: The legacy of the magisters," Fenris venomously stated as they reached the altar.

Aria was horrified at the sight before her. Deep cuts rent the elf's skin from his wrists to his elbows, from his knees to his hips, and one went from ear to ear. He had been fastened down by thick leather bindings and the stone beneath him was red with blood; his sacrifice had been extremely recent.

"They would do this? Unwillingly?" Merrill asked, aghast at the horrific scene before them.

"You're not far from it yourself," Fenris sneered. "The magisters will do anything to justify their need for power."

"There is no excuse for blood magic," Anders softly stated as they pressed on in search of Hadriana.

Thankfully, Fenris was too preoccupied with his search for the magister to honor that statement with one of his trademark magic-hating rants. Aria's fault was that she could see both sides of the argument objectively. Still, the presence of blood magic was evidence of a fatal breach of the law. Bleeding slaves dry for the power their life's force contained was unforgivable.

The reached a hall of sorts, with high, arched ceilings. Shades and reanimated corpses attacked them in force, outnumbering them four to one at first. Aria methodically dispatched of what enemies she could, employing her miasmic flasks to momentarily stun them while Fenris swung wide, lethal arcs with his enormous great sword. Merrill cast debilitating spells while Anders employed his knowledge of fire and ice in destroying their enemies.

They came out of the battle no worse for wear. Hadriana's control of magic was amazingly weak, for a mage of her apparent stature. Aria had no doubt that Bethany or Anders could have easily dispatched of her without blood magic ever crossing their minds. Merrill... Was quickly becoming a lost cause.

Once the hall was clear of Hadriana's conjured puppets, they found an elven servant girl cowering in a corner to escape the heat of the battle. She accepted the hand Hawke offered her and stood unsteadily before them.

"Are you hurt? Did they touch you?" Fenris immediately asked her, his eyes assessing her condition. Anders also conducted an appraisal, his healing white light bathing her momentarily.

The girl's eyes were wide with fear-driven hysteria. "They've been killing everyone!" she gushed, her voice trembling in grief and terror. "They cut Papa, bled him!"

Fenris and Aria exchanged a sadly knowing glance. "Why? Why would they do this?" Fenris queried in horror, though he already knew the answer.

"The magister! She said she needed power, that someone was coming to kill her," the servant continued, her eyes darting around the room like a rabbit avoiding an eagle's talons.

Fenris looked sadly at his feet, his head bowing slightly. The servant girl continued.

"We tried to be good. We did everything we were told! She loved Papa's soup. I don't understand," she relayed, tears in her overly large, jewel-like eyes.

"Is the magister still here?" Aria interjected then, her own hatred for Hadriana growing exponentially with every word the servant girl said.

"I—think so," the girl sniffled, looking around again, as though the very shadows would attack her. "The magister said that they were to prepare for battle. I think she's very frightened. "

"She has every reason to be," Fenris snarled.

"Please don't hurt her," the girl begged, the terror in her eyes breaking Aria's heart. "She'll be so angry if you hurt her!"

"You're just a slave to them, property to be used," Aria gently spoke.

"Everything was fine until today!" the elven servant defended.

"It wasn't," Fenris said, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. He hung his head sadly. "You just didn't know any better."

The girl took a hasty step towards Fenris, her gaze innocent and lost. "Are you my master now?"

"No!" Fenris replied, his arms going out as if to stay her. He took a step back from her, revulsion sending a shudder through his body.

"But, I can cook. I can clean. What else will I do?" she pleaded with him, her voice breaking slightly.

"If you go to Kirkwall, I can help you," Aria came to Fenris's rescue.

"Yes? Oh praise the Maker! Thank you!" the girl said before running off toward the exit they'd just cleared.

Fenris rounded on Aria, his eyes spitting acid-laced green darts. "I didn't realize you were in the market for a slave!"

Aria's own fury radiated from her body as she faced him. But then, she realized that he wasn't understanding. How could he? All he knew was that the wealthy preyed on the poor. That humans, mages, all used his people like oxen.

"I gave her a job, Fenris," she gently said, holding her hand out in a placating gesture, palm towards him.

"Ah... Then, that's good," he sternly replied, though it was an awkwardly delivered statement. "My apologies," he said with a slight bow. "Let's find Hadriana, and be done with this place."

Aria followed him as he stalked off in the only direction they could go at this point. They entered the hallway at the far end of the room and fought through yet more shades and corpses protecting their feeble master until they reached yet another room. Hadriana stood at the opposite end, a small army of her demonic minions around her.

"You've made a terrible mistake coming here!" she screamed as she saw Fenris. She was a small woman, slight in build. She had long, dark hair that looked as though it hadn't been brushed in days. Her skin was pallid and nearly translucent. Dark circles appeared as stains under her vivid blue eyes.

"Not as much as you have, witch!" Fenris retorted, cleaving the head of a shade that attacked him in that moment.

Aria launched into battle, along with the rest of their party. The magister sent wave after wave of shades and undead at them. Aria fought with renewed vigor, feeling that finally she could help free Fenris from the shackles his old life still had on him. If he killed Hadriana, perhaps Danarius would relent and finally let the elf be free.

The battle raged on, Hadriana weakening exponentially in their relentless onslaught. Fenris was a whirlwind of destruction, his lyrium brands glowing constantly as he dispatched of every foe she sent his way with reckless ease. Soon, they had her in a corner, drained of her mana, and but inches from death.

Fenris stood over her, kicking her staff from her reach. He brought his sword over his head, but Hadriana spoke.

"Stop! You do not want me dead!" she pleaded, her breath coming in halted gasps.

"There is only one person I want dead more," Fenris snapped. But he stayed his weapon for the moment.

"I have information, elf," Hadriana gushed. "And I will trade it in return for my life."

"Pah! The location of Danarius?" Fenris scoffed. "What good would that do me? I'd rather he lose his pet pupil."

"You have a sister," she continued frantically. "She is alive."

Fenris nearly dropped his sword and a look of hope mixed with fear stole across his visage. Hadriana saw this as a victory and sat up, her eyes darting toward her staff for a just a second.

"You wish to reclaim your life?" she breathlessly asked, unsteadily getting to her feet to stand before him. "Let me go, and I will tell you where she is," she pleaded once more.

Fenris sheathed his great sword on his back and studied her, then looked to Aria.

"This is your call," Aria answered the question in his gaze.

He approached her and she fell to her knees before him. His movements were slow and steady, calming. He bent down to bring himself to her level and looked into her eyes.

"So I have your word?" Hadriana queried hopefully. "If I tell you, you'll let me go?"

"Yes," Fenris snapped, eying her as a wolf eyed wounded potential quarry. "You have my word."

"Her name is Varania. She is in Qarinus, serving a magister by the name of Ahriman," Hadriana gushed, eager to hold Fenris to his word.

"A servant," Fenris mused, inching closer to the magister. "Not a slave."

"She's not a slave," Hadriana confirmed for him as Fenris's lyrium brandings flared and he was cast in a blue-white halo.

"I believe you," he said, and she looked up hopefully at him. But then, he plunged his hand into her chest. He crushed her heart right then and there and let her lifeless body fall gracelessly to the stone. "We're done here," he spat. He turned and stalked past Aria, but she sought to waylay him.

"Fenris... Are you alright?" Aria asked, currently at a loss for any other words.

"I don't want to talk about it!" Fenris raged, spinning to face her. He loomed over her for a breath, then backed away, violently gesturing with his hands in the air. "This could be a trap! Danarius could have sent Hadrian here to tell me about this 'sister'. Even if he didn't, trying to find her would still be suicide! Danarius has to know about her, has to know that Hadriana knows," he said, his voice growing more venomous and bitter as he spoke, until it was a soft, rage-filled snarl. "But all that matters is that I finally got to crush this bitch's heart." He turned from Aria as he continued, "May she rot, and all the other mages with her."

Aria lay a placating hand on his shoulder, mindful of the spikes his armor possessed at that juncture. "Maybe...we should leave," she softly said, trying to turn him to face her.

"Don't comfort me," he snarled, stepping lithely away from her touch, avoiding her gaze by employing the long bangs that framed his angular face. Fenris whirled to face her, pointing at her in silent accusation for a second. "You saw what was done here. There's always going to be some reason, some excuse why mages need to do this. Even if I found my sister, who knows what the magisters have done to her." He looked away then, shame and fury seizing his features. "What has magic touched that it doesn't spoil?" he snapped.

Fenris clapped his palm to his forehead and bowed his head for a second. "I...need to go." He stalked off and Aria gave him a lengthy head start.

Merrill and Anders were silent the entire way home, no doubt digesting what they'd seen. They jogged most of the way, making it back to Kirkwall just as the final rays of the sun sank beneath the horizon. Aria saw Merrill safely to her hovel in the alienage, and Anders disappeared as soon as they walked through the city gates.

Not quite ready to be home yet, Aria decided to confront Fenris at his mansion, as she was fairly certain that was where he'd be. When no one answered the door, she picked the front door's lock and let herself in. She thoroughly searched his entire home, but it looked as though no one had been there in days.

Finally admitting defeat, she wearily trudged across Hightown to her own estate. The lanterns and torches were all extinguished in the bed rooms. Everyone was asleep. She preferred it that way. After a journey like today, the last thing she wanted was to tell stories of how horrible her latest endeavor had turned out.

She slid her key noiselessly into the door and slowly unbolted the heavy lock. She deftly pulled it open and quickly slipped inside. She had hardly enough time to register the face that appeared in the wake of the door's opening before he retreated, granting her entrance and leaving her agape for the thousandth time at his lethal, powerful brand of grace. She reacted a split second later, realizing he'd closed the door and she now stood with her back against the wall. He pressed in on her, indomitable, possessed. One of her hands instinctively went to her hip, seeking the sheathed throwing knife that this time was not there. The other rested on his chest, as if to hold him off. But the tenseness of her muscles relaxed against the heat of his skin and the steady thud of his pulse there.

His unfathomably verdant eyes bored into hers through the reckless halo of his silvery hair, endowed by obsession. His gaze was searing her to the bone, leaving her to do naught but draw gasps of breath through her lips and struggle blindly to get a grip on her senses.

"I've been...thinking about this whole mess with Hadriana," he said suddenly, backing away from her. He lifted a hand to his face, his fingers covering his mouth in trepidation as he continued, "I took out my anger on you, undeservedly so. I was...not myself. I'm sorry."

Aria relaxed further and relief flooded her as she discerned that he was unharmed. She offered him a soft smile, then worry came over her again. "I went to your mansion when I returned to Kirkwall, but you were not there. I was...worried."

"I...needed to be alone," Fenris replied, his voice stern but gentle again, his features apologetic. "When I was still a slave, Hadriana was a torment."

"I could see that," Aria mused aloud for his benefit.

"The thought of her slipping out of my grasp now..." he said through gritted teeth, his eyes alight again with his hatred, "I couldn't let her go. I wanted to, but I couldn't."

Aria moved closer to him, her eyes on his, studying him. She could understand his actions, but it didn't mean she had to condone it. He gave his word. Having seen him go back on it in the same breath... It broke a sliver off of the rock of trust she had in him.

"Fenris, you gave her your word," Aria whispered, mentally preparing for the barrage he would launch in the wake of that statement.

"She had to die!" he roared, closing the distance completely between them. "This...hate. I thought I'd gotten away from it. But it dogs me no matter where I go. To feel it again after...after everything I've experienced with you..to know it was they who planted it inside me, it was too much to bear!" His visage softened, a hint of shame radiating from the way he held his head. "Bah!" he said, turning away. "But I didn't come here to burden you with this."

"It is a burden I would gladly bear, Fenris. You have to let go of this hatred, of the past. It's eating you alive."

He rounded on her then, slamming her into the wall and pinning her arms in front of her so that she could not unsheath one of her lethal daggers. Her hands were on his chest, his fingers ensnaring her wrists savagely.

"The return of this hatred just exacerbates everything else—I have done everything in my power to distract myself. But I find I can think of nothing else," Fenris fervently stated, his hands shifted gently to cover hers, which he guided to rest on his chest, pressing her palms against the armour he still wore. "You…haunt me."

Her amber eyes lifted drowsily to meet his deep, crystalline green gaze. "Fenris, I am here. Whenever and whatever you need," she managed, her voice uncharacteristically heavy with emotion though she spoke with subtle softness and unabashed earnestness.

Her eyes slammed closed and she gasped simultaneously as his lips collided with hers, blissfully brutal in this initial onslaught. Her arms ensnared his shoulders while his hands cupped her face. His body was hard against hers, crushing her to him as their mouths waged the most beautiful war against each other. He tore his lips from hers and planted white-hot, irresistibly enticing kisses along the column of her throat.

She moaned and spun, slamming him against the wall. In the brief moment before she launched her own assault on him, they exchanged a knowing glance that ignited her blood to a deafening inferno. His eyes were dark with his desire. His lips turned up on one side in a sexy, snide little smirk that made her all the more crazy for him. It was a look between them that simply said, "Now you're speaking my language."

His lips hotly claimed hers again, grunting as she shoved him against the wall. His arms went around her waist, crushing her to him even as she ground against him. Aria couldn't think when his lips touched hers. All she could do was react, and Maker help her, she'd do anything he asked of her right now.

So lost in the passionate exchange was she that she only noticed he cradled her in his arms when he'd begun ascending the stairs up to her chambers. She struggled a little, trying to get to her feet, but he only held her more tightly, his eyes seeking hers, his expression somewhat hurt. She ceased her struggles immediately when his countenance registered in her mind.

"Would you prefer it if I let you down?" he huskily whispered, his lips grazing hers as he continued towards her bed chamber.

She could only sigh. "Never let me go."

His pace quickened. Even as their lips met again, they were falling to the bed. His deft fingers made swift work of her armour, desperately seeking the pliable, soft skin beneath. She arched against his touch, yanking him down by the shoulders and renewing their feverish kiss exchange.

Maker, she could get lost in him. He stole all rationale, all the logic she knew in this world with the mere brush of his lips, movement of his hands, and heated glance. But tonight…mere promises were not enough for either of them. They were cashing in.

With renewed vigor, she plucked at the leather lacing that bound his armour to him. He propped himself above her, granting her easier access in removing his garments. She hastily peeled away the encumbering implements he wore , leaving the flimsy white undershirt as the only barrier to the treasure beneath. He sat back, straddling her hips and smiling devilishly. She watched as he slipped the garment off over his head. Her eyes clung haplessly to the steely contours of his body, marveling at the pure beauty of his movement, sinew sliding like a shallow river over a rocky bottom and laced with rivulets of silver.

He latched onto both of her hands, sliding them first up his chest, then back down his silken, firm abdominals until their fingers encountered his belt. She swallowed the hard lump in her throat that had risen as soon as her fingertips touched the rough leather. She slowly raised her eyes to meet his gaze.

"Aria," he sighed, guiding her fingers in undoing his belt. His actions finished the statement far better than any words could say.

She held his gaze as her fingers stopped fumbling and remembered the task at hand. In removing all his armour, all his protection, she realized that for both of them, this was symbolic; she was unbinding him from the chains of his past. She could be his savior. She could make him his own master. She could put an end to all the torture that haunted his gaze. She could be the one to wipe away those lines of worry, and replace them instead with ones of joy.

As she plied the leather binding apart, he shoved her back against the bed. He hovered over her, his eyes riveted on hers once more. She couldn't take the way he looked at her, green fire that stole her breath and made her skin ignite; her stomach somersaulted, her ears rang, and there was a deep ache coming in heated waves low in her abdomen. She wanted to be consumed by him, to consume him herself.

Taking a page from his book, she yanked him down to her and guided his hands in parting the half-unlaced blouse she wore under her armour. His hands were rough and warm, incredibly strong, and yet here, in this moment, they were unbelievably gentle. He sighed as she sat up a little, allowing him to free her arms from the offending garment.

As soon as her arms were liberated, he crushed her back to the bed, his lips taking hers. She couldn't help the moans that escaped her every time his skin encountered hers. His fingertips skimmed over her belly in lethargic, passionate patterns. Her hands caressed his back, fingernails lightly coursing from his shoulders to the small of his back. His tongue danced with hers, each further inciting the other.

After far too short of a time, he tore his lips from hers, kissing a trail from her mouth to her ear. His teeth gently seized her earlobe and he whispered, "You're mine."

Aria gasped as his hand slipped beneath the waistband of her unlaced breeches, perpetually southward until he found the source of that dull, hot ache. He stroked the pain away, leaving in its wake exquisite bliss. He stopped after but a moment and stood at the side of the bed, motioning her to him.

She swiftly complied, scooting across the bed until she reached a sitting position in front of him. He guided her hands to the waistband of his pants once more, and she quickly took over. She deftly unlaced the fly. Every half second or so, her hand brushed the hardened evidence of his intent for her.

The soft black suede pants slipped down his sinewy, spry legs, revealing to her every naked inch of him. She sat forward, softly tracing the lyrium marks on his abdomen with the pads of her fingers. Where her fingertips met his lyrium-branded skin, it seemed to emanate a soft silvery light, like a moonlight off glass. It reminded her of the times they were on watch, and he'd called upon the lyrium in his skin to warm her. He ran his fingers through her hair as she explored him.

As Aria's excursions brought her to his chest, he gasped suddenly and brought her face to his sternum. His heart hammered wildly and he clung to her like a wet rag to skin. She held him as best she could, unable to get a read on his emotions without being able to gauge his facial expression. She thought he was hurt, but the way he held her told her that this was how she could ease it.

A brief moment passed and he released her, smoothing her hair away from her face as he drew her to lay facing him on the bed. His expression was of wonder, pain, and passion. He seemed as though he'd just taken a blow—but enjoyed it.

"Fenris?" Aria asked, touching his face.

His reply came in the form of yet more passionate liplock. His fingers worked at her brassiere's fasteners while he stole her sanity with his kisses. She buried her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, unable to satiate her need to taste him.

She gasped when he abruptly ended the kisses and met her eyes. His hand rested on her hip, thumb hooked in the belt buckle of her breeches. He tentatively tugged the fabric down, his dark emerald eyes pleading and yet commanding her. She lifted her buttocks, arching her back. He groaned and his eyes raked over her in this brief pose, committing each detail to perfect memory. He hastily tugged her underwear down her legs and tossed it haphazardly across the room. She wondered for a fraction of a second what became of the brassiere, but found herself distracted by the thrill of his fingers moving ever so lightly up her thigh.

He chuckled as he watched the gooseflesh creep over her. "Are you cold?"

She laughed airily and regarded him with a seductive, flirtatious grin. "If I was, what would you do about it?" she countered playfully.

"This," he murmured, yanking the covers out from under them and letting the down comforter fall over top of them.

"Fenris—" she giggled, which turned to a soft moan as he crushed her to him once more, their naked bodies colliding and entangling.

He kissed her, teasing and light, his tongue darting playfully at hers then retreating. His hands grasped her hips, pressuring her against him as he moved to be above her. His eyes raked over her naked form, then settled on her face. She reached up and tucked a particularly long silvery lock behind his ear. He turned his head and kissed her wrist, his teeth lightly grazing the pulse point there.

"Such…enigmatic beauty," he murmured, letting one of his hands trail down her ribcage, up the curve of her bent leg, then inward to her inner thigh. He stroked soft, small circles there, edging closer to the throbbing heat at the apex of her thighs. He stopped the circles after a few intense moments, then smoothed his rough palm to her knee.

He gently drew her knees apart, moving so that his body rested between them. Her whole body was trembling, her eyes slipping down his chiseled, branded abdomen to his engorged, elven manhood. She watched, enchanted, as he moved his hips forward slowly, and using the free hand that wasn't holding her knee, he guided himself sweetly in.

She ground her teeth and fought the tortured moan that tore from her throat at the beautiful intrusion. Her hips bucked involuntarily against his and he collapsed forward onto her, his head resting on her chest. He kissed and gently massaged the firm, supple globes of flesh there, his tongue lapping at the crest of one of her breasts. He stayed there a moment, deeply embedded in her, seeking more pleasure from her womanly endowments.

His hips began to move after she bucked against him a few more times, his teeth having grazed the overly sensitized flesh of her nipples and forcing her body into blissful spasms. He moved slow and deep, drawing her legs around his waist as his mouth claimed hers once more. He softly groaned each time they came together, feeling her body tighten around him and loathe to let him leave.

Fenris pitched deeply into her a few more times before fully withdrawing and turning Aria on her side, so that she faced away from him. He lifted her top leg and angled his hips so that they were flush with her buttocks. He slowly pressed into her again and once inside, he lowered her leg in favor of cradling her to him.

He kissed the strange, scarlet Dalish ink tattoo of the hawk that adorned her back, just below her neck between her shoulder blades. It was the very brainchild of the design that she later had made into her own family crest. It fascinated him and he marveled for at least the hundredth time that she'd allow such marks to come to her body. He knew the pain acquiring the adornment entailed.

Aria was his puppet right now. She didn't think he knew it, but she was. She complied with his taciturn requests, communicated solely by his touch. She moaned softly as he entered her again, the steely hardness of him igniting her belly and shortening her breath. It was mad, wonderful, chaotic bliss.

His lips brushed her shoulder, her neck, her ear. His hand curled gently over her throat and he whispered soft foreign Tevinter phrases of what she could only guess were pleasure and flattery next to her ear. She noticed then a low pulsing light coming from the lyrium brandings in his arms.

Aria gently pushed herself away from him, turning so that she could see his face. She smiled at him, a tender expression, and moved back into the fold of his arms. She lifted a leg over his hip and he positioned himself so that she could guide him back into her.

He sighed and held her to him, letting her set up the pace, his eyes never leaving hers. He matched her movements, caressing her back, setting her skin ablaze anew with his touch. They continued thus, slow and erotic, lost in each other's gazes for a few moments. It was simple: They belonged together. He completed her. She'd had few men in her lifetime, but this… None had ever made her feel like this.

The dawning of this realization forced her to act. She pushed him so that she straddled his hips, her body above his, keeping him inside her. His hands flew to her hips, his fingertips staining her skin white with the pressure of his touch. She moved as his hands conducted her, hard, with ever more urgency.

When he was satisfied with the pace she kept, or when he could not hold onto her like this any longer—she couldn't tell, he pulled her down and rolled so that he was above her again. His chest crushed against hers, his breath was hot on her neck. She dragged her nails lightly down his back, her teeth gently grazing his shoulder with each of his powerful thrusts.

"You're mine," he whispered again as he drove into her, as if the words were a prayer that had been answered.

She noticed again the pulsing light within the lyrium scars down his arms and back. It flushed through him like wind swirling thick fog. She also noticed that the pulse was in time with his thrusts, with his thunderous heartbeat. He was…stunning. He was not of this world—he was a god.

"To have you look at me like this… I've dreamt of that look for months," Fenris murmured brokenly, having pulled away to look into her eyes.

"Fenris…," Aria breathlessly replied, unable to think anything else. She smoothed her hand along the perfectly chiseled line of his jaw, still watching the pulse of light breathing through his strange markings.

"Aria," he whispered, lowering his lips to stop a hair's breadth from hers. "You're beautiful."

He pushed more insistently within her and his mouth possessed hers once more. She couldn't tell where he began and she ended. She couldn't rationalize anything. All she knew was she had never felt this adored in her life. All she knew was that she never wanted this night, this moment to end. But something within him was changing and it brought the same change in her.

He drove hard into her, his breath ragged and his heart pounding. He kept murmuring things in his strange Tevinter tongue, his hands all over her, his mouth hot on her neck, her ear, her lips. She found herself gasping for air in the ardent maelstrom that swirled around them, clinging desperately to his body as if it were her one salvation.

The heat between her thighs erupted violently and white hot light of exquisitely painful release rent her psyche. Through the blinding haze, she felt Fenris slamming mercilessly into her and heard him issue an impassioned oath before he collapsed onto her. His body shuddered against hers for a moment, and then he was still. He gently caught one of her hands in his, their fingers twining together as if their very souls were joining.

She couldn't move even if she had wanted to. Fenris lay above her, his cheek against hers, his lips caressing her shoulder in silent prayers. She smoothed a hand through his tousled, reckless, silken hair while her other hand was caught in an intimate embrace with one of his. She was sore where he still rested inside her, but she wouldn't have done anything to stop the pain. It was perfect. He…was perfect.


	28. Chapter TWENTY-SEVEN

**Chapter 27**

Aria couldn't tell how long she had slept or how much time had passed even since Fenris had set foot inside her mansion. She sat up, chilled with the realization that he was no longer next to her. The sky outside was still dark. Her eyes frantically searched the room until she found his form standing next to the chamber's fireplace, one arm rested on the mantle while the other hung limply at his side. His head was down, but she could not see his face. He wore his armour and all its implements again.

The conformation of his shoulders brought yet another chill to her bones. Where he'd exuded his normal haunted soul before, he seemed doubly tortured now. He slowly turned to face her, having heard her stir under the heavy covers that adorned her lavish bed.

"If it was terrible, I can explain," Aria said, standing and stretching to dispel the disquiet that stole over her. His eyes raked over her naked form heatedly, lovingly. She laid back down on the bed, facing him on her side.

"I'm sorry, it's not... It was fine," Fenris stammered, pacing in front of the fireplace, like he always did when he was ill at ease. "No, that is insufficient." He stopped in front of her and his anxiety ceased for just a second as he reverently said, "It was better than anything I could have dreamed."

Realization dawned on Aria then. He had acted like he was being physically hurt throughout the course of their courting dance. "Is it the markings? They...hurt don't they?"

Fenris sighed and abruptly looked away. "It's not that." He started pacing again, this time at the foot of the bed. Aria sat up as he continued. "I began to remember. My life before. Just flashes..." He turned to her then, his eyes suddenly going downward, his hands wringing together. He seemed to be in physical anguish. "It's too much," he said on a shudder. "This is too fast. I cannot...do this."

For a second, Aria felt as though she'd been struck by a bolt of lightning, straight to the chest. She couldn't breathe for the crushing sensation that stopped all air from entering or exiting her lungs. Her ears rang and the room seemed to spin for a moment. She fought through it and decided to try and change his mind. While she worked out what to say, she quickly donned her robe.

"Your life before? You remember it?"

"I've never remembered anything from before the ritual. But there were faces. Words..." he graced her with a reply, his fingers worrying at the hair above his ears in trepidation. "For just a moment, I could recall all of it. And then it slipped away," he said, his voice breaking.

It was Aria's turn to pace. He watched her, his mind spinning crazily. He had seen everything. Heard his name. Saw his family... But worse, he saw that he'd sought Danarius out. He'd won a competition between young warriors. To the victor went a life of luxury, freedom for his family, and prestige bestowed upon his name. He'd wanted so much to be seen as an equal. To be seen as something more than the lapdogs his people were to those of better fortune. He wanted to be known, to be feared. And now... All he wanted to do was escape it all. The tidal wave of self-loathing nearly made his knees buckle and he couldn't stand to have Aria look at him like that, the fear, the compassion, the nobility, all the good that she was, seeing him as a lover, when he was in fact worse than that mage who loved her.

"That's good, though isn't it? We could try again—maybe they'll stay next time," Aria suggested, stopping her frantic pacing to catch his hands in hers.

"Perhaps you don't realize how...upsetting this is," he stated through ground teeth. He let go of her hands and turned back towards the fireplace. "I've never remembered anything, and to have it all come back in a rush, only to lose it... I can't," his voice was tortured. "I...can't."

"Why can't you? I'll help you," Aria pleaded, reaching for him, then quickly retreating, fearing that her knees would buckle. "Fenris...please..."

"I'm sorry," Fenris said, his eyes pleading with her. "I feel like such a fool. All I wanted was to be happy... Just for a little while. Forgive me."

He turned and Aria watched him go, frozen in place, her mind struggling to make sense of what had just happened. She felt... Used. Anger flared hotly within her and she took a step forward, as if to chase him. She stopped. It didn't make sense. The things he'd said and done, the way he made her feel, the way she knew she had made him feel... None of it seemed to fit.

She heard him leave the mansion a few moments later. Her knees buckled at the sound of the door closing, whisper quiet on well-oiled hinges, like a soft sigh of anguish. The finality of it was a blow she felt deep in her chest. She stayed kneeling, her eyes on her bedroom door, but seeing nothing. She looked out her window, her head swiveling drunkenly. Moonlight poured in, bluish white and pure. It spilled onto the desk and lit upon the dress that hung over her chair. The dress he'd gotten her.

Aria crawled over to it and dragged it down to rest in her lap as she sat cross-legged on the floor, her fingers running over the lacing of the bodice in quiet contemplation. She wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn't come. She just stayed there, fingers splaying the dress's fabric, her mind refusing to work anymore. Aria was cold. Not physically. She just couldn't feel anything and Marethari's words to her, the first time she met the elven Keeper, came back.

_There is a light in your heart. Don't let it go out._

Aria hung her head in remembrance of those words and she let her breath out slowly. "Too late," she whispered. She curled up on the floor, hugging the dress to her, and fell asleep.

Merrill walked through the alienage, keeping her head down as one of the other elves hailed her. She had just seen a templar leave the alienage and she wasn't too keen on giving anyone any information. The other elven woman chased her and caught her at her door.

"Please, you're of the Dalish. My son is with them and Marethari will be here soon. You know Hawke, yes? She is one of your friends?" the woman gushed as Merrill looked at her wide-eyed.

"Y-yes, I know Hawke—oh! You're Feynriel's mother!"

"Yes! And I am in need of Hawke's help again," the other elf continued. "The Keeper says some terrible ill has fallen over my boy and she needs to do a ritual in the fade. She said to get you or Hawke, but I'd be much more put at ease if you both came!"

"Let me put my things inside, and I will fetch Hawke for you," Merrill told her.

"Oh thank you! Thank you!" the woman said, turning and running back to her own hovel across the alienage.

Hawke, Anders, Bethany, and Varric had helped Feynriel, an elf-human boy with a propensity for magic, escape the grasp of the templars back when Hawke first had started making a name for herself. Merrill had heard the story retold many times, grander and grander with each new telling. She wondered if it was true that Varric had gotten the slavers to let the boy go when Varric told them Feynriel was the Viscount's love child. Sometimes, the wildest, most unbelievable parts of his stories rang with the most truth.

Merrill deposited her groceries on the table of her perpetually dirty little hovel, then took her leave. People stared at her as she passed through the Hightown bazaar. She hated that. She never felt like she belonged anywhere.

As she bounded up the steps that led towards the estate row near the Viscount's square, someone called her name. She turned to look and saw Fenris in the shadows by the tall pillars that lined the square. She dashed over to him.

"What are you doing?! There are templars about!" Fenris angrily hissed at her.

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm busy. I didn't come all this way to be bothered by the likes of you," Merrill quipped, storming off towards Hawke's.

"Where are you going?" Fenris demanded, falling into step with her.

"Hawke is needed. You are not," Merrill said, picking up her pace. Fenris kept on.

"Who needs her?" he growled.

"It's Dalish and magic business, so it's of no interest to you, I'm sure," Merrill stormily said, glaring over at Fenris as they both speed-walked in the shadows.

They climbed the steps to Hawke's mansion together. Bodahn answered the door, but informed them Hawke had left just over a week ago with Aveline, Anders, and Varric. They'd gone back to the Deep Roads to fetch some fool-hardy dwarves seeking their own wealth, a request made by a desperately angry father.

Fenris stalked away from Hawke's estate as soon as Bodahn closed the door. Merrill kept pace at his side.

"Where are you going?" the Dalish elf petulantly demanded.

"I'm going to wait for Hawke to return," came the curt reply.

"Why? So you can talk her out of helping?"

Fenris leered at her. "Sometimes she doesn't know when to just let things take their course," he bitterly snarled.

"No. She is a truly good person and she always helps. You could do well to learn a sense of compassion," Merrill fired back. They moved at a quick jog now towards the Kirkwall gates that Hawke would have to pass through to enter the city.

"I have compassion. I just also know when to put something down," Fenris railed.

"Is that what happened then?" Merrill asked as they stopped at the gates, her eyes alight with fury. "Is that what you did? You 'put her down'?"

Fenris was taken aback. As far as he knew, no one was aware of what had transpired after he slew Hadriana. No one knew he'd made love to Aria, no one knew of the revelations he'd had that crushed his very soul as a result. He hadn't seen her since that night, nearly a month ago. When Hawke didn't want to be found, it was futile to search for her. Varric had asked him last week if Hawke had seemed a bit off lately. Fenris's reply had only been that she didn't seem any different to him. Not exactly a lie; he hadn't seen her to know her demeanor had changed.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he tersely hedged, making a deliberately lengthy scan of the horizon.

"She's utterly broken," Merrill whispered, her voice cracking slightly. "I hate to see it."

Fenris paced at this, multiple emotions colliding in the expressions on his face.

"She hides it well. I've seen Hawke take some emotional hits before, but this... I don't know if anyone else has noticed, but she's not the same."

"We aren't together. I don't know if we ever were, even-"

"I see how you look at her, with those big sad puppy dog eyes," Merrill crooned then.

"I do not have puppy dog eyes," Fenris tersely commented.

"You're in love with her," Merrill chirped, nimbly hopping up to sit on the top of the railing that lined the city's walls. Her feet dangled childishly as she sat there regarding him with a smug grin.

"I am not," Fenris growled, turning away from her.

"She's in love with you. And she's behaving as though you broke her heart," Merrill softly accused. "I don't know if your heart's broken. Sometimes I wonder if you have one at all."

Fenris sighed at this and renewed his pacing in front of her, every few seconds his eyes darting to the road. Dusk was falling quickly. He could just leave and come back to wait in the morning, but Hawke was often known to push through the night if she really just wanted to get home. He couldn't leave. And it didn't look like Merrill was leaving either.

"Sometimes I wonder if she truly understands the nature of pure evil," Fenris finally said, still pacing.

"I think she does. But I think if she sees the slightest amount of hope, she'll stare it down."

"The line between courage and stupidity is very thin."

"I don't believe for a moment that you think Aria is stupid," Merrill chimed, legs still dangling childishly.

Fenris stopped pacing and placed his hands on the railing, his gaze searching the horizon for movement along the road. "Being with her... It's the most pain and pleasure, simultaneously..."

Merrill was silent, watching him gaze longingly into the distance, the light in his eyes full of hurt and regret.

"To think I felt that happy, then to learn that I don't deserve it... It's more than any creature can bear. All I want... All that...I...want... I wish I couldn't want. I wish I didn't know. I hate myself. To think that what I wanted led to all of this, it's madness. And then there's that _mage_... He hounds her whenever she will allow it. He poisons her while he serves his _higher_ purpose. Bah! He would see us all drown in blood to turn us into Tevinter. Magisters and slaves. That's the legacy he promotes. And she helps him. Always."

"You're jealous of Anders? For the love of the Creators, why?" Merrill incredulously asked, her eyes large in disbelief.

"I am _not_ jealous!"

"Pfff. Please. You're the picture of jealousy."

"He will sacrifice her for his cause. He will kill her. And when he does, I'm going to crush his heart in my hand."

"I'm not going to debate this with you. You're ridiculous," Merrill piped, springing down from her perch.

"You're not so unlike him," Fenris continued.

"Shut up. You can't even tell when you love someone."

"What do you want me to say? You don't know anything about what happened between Aria and I. Quit pretending like you do," Fenris dismissed her.

"No, you're right. I don't. But I do know that you love her, and she obviously loves you—what I can't understand is, why then aren't you together?" Merrill continued despite his drop of the topic.

"Because I don't deserve her, and she can't see that."

"Oh, so you're gonna be just like Anders then? Reel her in, indulge yourself, and then just drop her when it no longer suits you?"

Fenris rounded on her at this, his hand went to the hilt of his sword, his lyrium brandings flared. "Don't compare _me_ to that _man_ ever again! Especially when you are no different than him!"

Merrill had gripped her staff and tiny bolts of electricity circled her hand. "I don't know how you can think I'm at all like him, other than both being mages." Her voice was quiet, controlled.

"You would destroy your clan to chase the offerings of a demon," Fenris snarled. "You have no bearings on anything real. That mirror is just as detrimental as Anders's _cause_."

"Ugh! You don't know anything. You just...use people as you go, running away from everything. That's all you ever do. Run! You're scared of feeling anything but hate because that's all you are. A big ball of hate!" Merrill returned.

Fenris straightened and turned back to watching the horizon. "And you had the love of your people, but you're so obsessed with history that you ignore the future. Tell me about this business, this Dalish magic business you're seeking Aria's aide in."

Merrill glared at him and hopped back up to her perch on the railing. "Why? You're just going to hate me more for it. And her, because I know she'll help."

"If I'm going to have to defend her against her own stupidity, I would like to at least know what I'm walking into."

Merrill rolled her eyes and sighed in exasperation. "A long time ago, Aria helped a mage escape the Circle. He was a child. The man he entrusted with his escape gave him instead to a slaver. Aria, Varric, Anders, and Bethany saved him. They sent him to my Keeper. He has a unique magical talent. He's a dreamer."

"A dreamer?"

"He can control the Fade with his dreams, he can enter sleeping people's minds if he hones his skills correctly."

"Why in the name of the Maker would anyone want to help someone learn to do that?" Fenris nearly roared. "Are you all daft?"

"He was a scared little boy. The Circle would have killed him!"

"As well they should, before he can kill us all."

Merrill glared at him, realizing his hair seemed unnaturally bright. It was dark now, and the moon had risen high above the city. She looked around, then peered at the road. "You're dangerous. And Aria didn't kill you."

"So what now? What has he done?" Fenris pressed, ignoring the barb.

"He's fallen gravely ill and the Keeper will need to do a ritual that sends people into the Fade to help him wake up," Merrill answered.

"Fan-bloody-tastic," Fenris sarcastically said, hopping up to sit on the wall and watch the road. "The last place in this world I want to go is the Fade."

"It's not so bad, actually," Merrill chirped.

"Go to sleep. I'll keep an eye out," Fenris barked.

"She looks at you differently you know," Merrill ignored the order.

"What?"

"When Aria looks at you, her eyes get warmer, and most times she smiles, even if you aren't looking. When she looks at Anders..." she paused for a moment as though trying to finish forming the thought, "It's pity and sorrow that cross her face."

Fenris said nothing, but inside, he felt slight relief. Then he remembered who and what he was. Anger filled him and his self loathing sucked him into silence.

They fell asleep watching the road. Fenris woke first just before dawn. Merrill was still soundly sleeping. He stretched his stiff limbs and looked out at the road. Fearing he had missed Aria's return, Fenris shook Merrill awake.

"Are they back?" she groggily asked, rubbing the sleep from her eyes with the heels of her hands.

"I fell asleep," Fenris tersely replied. "You stay here. I'm going to go back to her mansion to see if she's returned. If she returns before I get back, I'll meet you in the alienage."

With that, Fenris ran up to Hightown, reaching Aria's mansion fifteen minutes later. Bodahn sleepily answered the door to inform Fenris that no, she had not been home yet. With a curt "Thank you", Fenris ran back to gate. Merrill was still there, leaning on the railing and looking out at the road.

"I didn't think she would be back this early," Merrill said as Fenris returned.

"You knew she left?" Fenris asked, his voice steely.

"Yes, but I thought she'd be back by now."

"They went to the Deep Roads. It's a three day one-way hike," Fenris snarled.

"Yes, but Aria is quick and efficient. I thought she'd be home last night. Do you think something could have happened to her? To them?"

"Mage, do you ever shut up?" he almost whined in exasperation.

Merrill glowered at him but said nothing in response.


	29. Chapter TWENTY-EIGHT

**Chapter 28**

**A/N: I will deviate a little from the quest; so you DA2 junkies and walking encyclopedias won't get angry with that little bit of knowledge. Hopefully I'm not boring you all too much! :) **

Fenris continued pacing, his path getting longer and longer as he regarded the road. Several hours passed, and at last far into the distance, a group of travelers appeared on the horizon. There were six in total.

"I think that's them," Merrill said, appearing at his side when he ceased pacing and looked sharply at the road.

"I concur," Fenris growled in response.

"Perhaps I should speak to her first," Merrill diplomatically stated. "Your presence is likely to upset her."

Fenris was silent, his own thoughts consuming him. Aria should be upset. He had used her, in essence. He hated himself all the more. He'd been the willing guard dog of a powerful magister. He'd slain other children to get this, to receive the power he now hated. He wanted her to hate him. He wanted her to be disgusted with his very presence. And he'd die defending her.

The party finally reached the gate an hour later, well into the morning. They were all covered with gore and dirt from their endeavors. Aria's visage was so pale it was nearly translucent, and dark purple stains existed under her eyes. Her hair had been re-plaited, but was dull compared to its normal luster. Varric and Anders looked dead on their feet, but seemed to regain some vitality now that they were home. Aveline was a mess and looked as though she'd just fought the Battle of Ostagar all over again. The two dwarves went straight to Hightown with Aveline. Varric, Anders, and Aria remained when Merrill flagged them down from atop the gate.

"That can't be good," Varric wearily said when he saw Merrill and Fenris waiting at the gate.

"The last two people I thought I'd ever see willingly in each others' presence," Anders clipped.

Aria sighed and stretched her sore right shoulder. Scores of Darkspawn slain, five or six ogres, a few Golems... She bloody hated the blighted Deep Roads. Anders regarded her with worry when she flinched during the shoulder rotation. He stepped to her side and bathed the injured limb with healing white light. Aria nodded her thanks to him just as Merrill trotted up to them.

"We have to go to the alienage. Marethari is waiting for us," Merrill chimed as she took the pack off Aria's back.

Aria groaned and hung her head. "What now?"

"Feynriel has fallen ill, and his mother and the Keeper need your help to save him," Merrill kindly stated.

"No rest for the wicked," Aria wearily said, looking to Varric and Anders. She knew she wouldn't have to even ask. They both nodded at her and they followed Merrill to the alienage. Fenris trailed behind them a few paces, silent, his expression unfathomable.

Aria's heart was hammering frenetically and she fought the bile that threatened to rise in her throat at the presence of the elven warrior. She hadn't seen him in over a month now, and the memory of what they shared and how he left her was enough to render her instantly ill. He looked just as he had the last time she saw him. Beautiful, angry, righteous, indomitable. If he'd been as broken about the whole thing as Aria had been, she could not tell. It hurt her even more. He truly did not care. Everything Fenris had said and done to make her believe he felt for her as much as Aria felt for him was a farce. She felt so stupid. She felt helpless.

"Are you ok?" Anders whispered near her ear, taking her arm as they bounded down the steps into the alienage. "Perhaps you should rest first. We've been going for two days straight now. You look like you're about to drop."

Aria patted his hand on her arm and looked ahead to avoid his gaze. "What doesn't kill me makes me stronger," she whispered in response.

Anders sighed and gracefully let go of her once they reached the hovel where Feynriel's mother lived. Merril knocked on the door, and Marethari answered immediately.

"Andaran a'tishan, child," the Keeper lovingly said, touching Merrill's cheek with her palm. The Dalish matriarch turned her gaze to Hawke and her brows knit together with concern. "Andaran a'tishan, Hawke. You look unwell. Are you sure you're up to this?"

Aria nodded and stepped forward, allowing the Keeper to embrace her momentarily in greeting. "I've been through worse. I can do this, whatever it is you need me to do."

They all stepped inside where enormous jars of lyrium were positioned about the room. Four bedrolls lay neatly at the center. An enormous, ancient-looking book laid open on a stand at the head end of the bedrolls. Arianni, Feynriel's mother, paced across the room, fear and anxiety evident in her expression.

Marethari informed them that they would all have to be asleep to enter the Fade. They would ingest sleeping herbs to accomplish this, though Aria would have no trouble falling asleep. Once they were in the Fade, Marethari and Merrill would use their magic to place them within Feynriel's dream. The demons had trapped him there, and Hawke would have to persuade him away from their influence. In the end, for Feynriel to leave the Fade, he'd have to denounce the demons and fight his way into the waking world again.

When she was done informing them of their tasks, Marethari took Hawke aside in the secluded pantry away from the ears of the others. Merrill prepared the herbs for ingestion while Anders, Varric, and Fenris looked on.

"There is one thing I must ask of you that may be very difficult," Marethari said once they were safely out of range.

"This is very dangerous, isn't it?" Aria nervously questioned, wringing her hands for a moment.

"It is, child. You are a remarkable young woman to do this. But if Feynriel falls prey completely to the demons, if there's any doubt of him coming back to us free of the demons, you must kill him. A death in the Fade will make him Tranquil, and render him harmless."

"And if I don't succeed?"

"Feynriel's power is unknown. Dreamers are very powerful mages, but their fortitude must be legendary in order for them to keep from succumbing to evil. If he becomes an abomination, there may be no stopping him," Marethari gravely stated.

"If I fail in saving him, I will do what is necessary," Aria wearily replied, peeking her head out to check on her companions. Fenris was close to the door now, no doubt eavesdropping. She sighed and avoided his gaze.

"I know it is a terrible thing to ask, but the consequences..."

"I understand. Let's get this over with, shall we?" Aria amiably said, going back out to the main room.

Fenris joined them and they stood next to their respective bedrolls. "I'm not too keen on going there."

"I'm afraid what might happen with Justice once we enter the Fade," Anders also voiced his concern.

"I must admit, I'm curious," Varric good-naturedly stated.

"We're here now. We're ready. Let's go bring that boy home," Aria said, her tone leaving no room for retreat.

They all laid down on their bedrolls once swallowing the foul liquid in the vials Merrill presented to them. Aria was instantly drowsy and slipped off to sleep before Marethari had even begun the incantation.

Aria looked around her, recognizing the Kirkwall Circle of Magi around her. The hall was empty as she entered, and everything looked as though it were transparent, as though if she touched anything, the stone in the walls, the iron bars on the windows, they would all evaporate.

A few moments later, Anders joined her, but he was not Anders. It was Justice in his full fury. He regarded Aria with open contempt, but still held respect for her. Fenris appeared next, moving slowly, his head swiveling at every little noise. His greatsword was drawn and held at the ready. Varric appeared last, his voice the first thing they heard.

"This is amazing! I'm in a dream, but I'm going to remember this when I wake up!" he laughed, coming in to view behind some barrels down the hall. He trotted over to them, his eyes taking everything in as though he were a child brought to a new land.

"Their hold on him is strong," Justice said, looking around as though he were seeing demons approaching at every angle. "And his strength is waning. We must be quick."

Fenris said nothing, but fell in to step right beside Aria. She wished he would just hang back as he had been doing. She couldn't stand his presence right now; the wounds he'd lashed upon her heart were too fresh, too raw.

They left the Templar Hall and went into the courtyard, where a sloth demon who called himself Torpor immediately confronted them. Aria didn't listen to anything he had to say. Demons were never worth the time. Apparently he wanted to possess Feynriel, as if Torpor's mere presence wasn't enough provocation for her. Justice was equally provoked and his presence bolstered Aria's own fading strength.

She attacked with every ounce of fury she had. All Aria wanted to do was go home, lock herself in her room for a week, and just sleep. She used this refreshing rage at being denied her wishes to carry her through the battle with the demon. In the end, it was Justice who struck the final blow, much to Aria's dismay.

Once Torpor was slain, they moved on to a door, behind which Feynriel's voice could be heard. The lad was talking to an apparition of his father and sat at a writing desk. The apparition was apparently teaching Feynriel to read and write, so that the boy could fulfill a promise to compose all of his father's business correspondence.

"Mother!" Feynriel exclaimed in confusion as Hawke entered the room. Varric, Justice, and Fenris disappeared as the door closed.

Aria looked down at herself and realized she was now an apparition herself, in Arianni's form. She strode up to Feynriel. "Your father never wanted anything to do with you," Aria said with Arianni's voice.

"No, he's teaching me to write. Then I can travel with him and learn the business," Feynriel replied, though his words lacked conviction.

"Remember, Feynriel, I taught you to write. He was never there for you," Aria-Arianni countered.

"Wait..." Feynriel said, turning to the apparition of his father. "No! I know what you are!"

The boy ran, and Aria felt herself return to her own form. Her party members were beside her again. The apparition turned into a demon, its true form. She was a desire demon, and her name was Caress.

"You would rob me of the chance to change the world?" the demon asked as she approached Aria.

"I don't think I fancy your specific brand of change," Aria retorted, brandishing her weapons.

"Maybe not you, but Varric..." she said, her voice silken and tempting. "What if I told you I could help you find Bartrand? Would you not love to wreak the vengeance you deserve on him for his betrayal?"

Varric took a drowsy step forward, his eyes riveted on the demon's. "That son of a bitch," Varric growled. He turned to look at Hawke, then back at the demon.

"Kill her. Then we can go find Bartrand and you can do to him whatever you like," Caress smoothly purred.

Aria didn't have too much time to react. Varric fired Bianca at her, narrowly missing a heart shot. Fenris leaped between them and unleashed devastating attacks on the dwarf. Aria and Justice focused on the shades and rage demons Caress summoned to her defense. When Aria turned her attention to Caress, she watched as Fenris drove his greatsword through her heart, effectively slaying the demon where she stood. Varric was gone.

"Your friends' loyalty is frail at best," Justice commented smugly as they exited the room and proceeded across the courtyard in search of Feynriel again.

"It takes a lot of courage and strength to refuse your heart's desires in the face of that which offers you the very means necessary to achieve them," Aria numbly stated, refusing to rise to the barb Justice twisted in her.

She wouldn't think about it. Not now. Varric's betrayal was minor in her eyes. She could not blame him. If a demon offered to free Bethany, to bring back Father and Carver, Aria doubted her own ability to refuse.

They moved across the courtyard, assaulted by more shades and a couple of rage demons along the way. Aria felt as though she did little to help defend Fenris and Justice. They practically slew the creatures before she had a chance to get a dagger in the fight.

They followed more voices to the great hall at the end of the row of offices where Orsino, the First Enchanter, and Meredith, the Knight-Commander conducted their business. When they stepped inside, Fenris and Justice vanished again, leaving Hawke as an apparition of Orsino to deal with the scene that lay before them.

The demon posed as Marethari, playing to Feynriel's pride in having been accepted by the Dalish as their savior and most powerful ally. Hawke-Orsino shook her head at these wild praises and looked to Feynriel.

"You're not of the Dalish. You're half-human. You've been with the Dalish; are they so ready to accept a half-human as one of their own?" Hawke-Orsino asked Feynriel.

The boy's suspicions in the last encounter lent him insight he hadn't possessed before and he looked at the demon, who a couple of the elven apparitions around her called Wryme.

"You're not real. None of you. I won't deal with a demon!" Feynriel cried, disappearing again.

The facades vanished, and Fenris and Justice joined her once more. Wryme reared up to his full, terrible height and glowered down at Aria.

"You have cost me dearly, child. These people flock to you because they perceive you as strong. Are you really?" he crooned maliciously.

"Dealing with demons... Why? Haven't any of you looked in a mirror once in your lives? You're hideous," Aria quipped, flipping one of her daggers idly as she normally did in the dance of words before a fight.

"You take such stock appearances. No wonder your friends' loyalty is so frail," Wryme chuckled, his horned, bulbous head swiveling towards Fenris. "Tell me slave, are you truly free? I could give you power enough to make you equal to all those who seek to keep you under their heels. You could take the Imperium by storm and crush them all."

"I..." Fenris started, taking a tentative step towards the demon. "You could do that?"

"That and so much more," Wryme cooed, one great yellow, serpentine eye meeting Aria's with a look of smug acknowledgment.

Fenris turned toward her, his greatsword poised to swing. The air rushed out of Aria's chest. Everything she thought he'd felt for her, everything he'd ever shared... She felt as though he'd reached into her rib cage and crushed her heart, as she'd seen him do many a time to many a foe. His eyes held no mercy as the sword came down.

The ear-shattering sound of metal on metal greeted her ears and she saw that Justice and blocked the blow with the tip of his staff. "Are you going to let this be the end?" Justice almost tenderly asked. "Fight!"

Aria was moved to action. Justice took care of Fenris while she slew the rage demons and shades that attacked them from all sides. She buried the hurt. She buried the pain. She locked away the sting of the betrayal. Right now, she could not feel anything but the song of battle thrumming through her muscles and her mind.

Justice ended Fenris, sending him back to wakefulness, then they tag-teamed Wryme until they were at last victorious. They ran back to the courtyard and found Feynriel waiting. He had changed. He had grown, and his face had lost some of the soft boyishness in favor of the harder lines of a man.

"Hawke!" he said as Aria alighted the steps into the courtyard's center.

"Are you ok?" Aria asked him, embracing him briefly.

"Yes! I think I am. I'm ready to leave this place," Feynriel said. "But I can't go back to the Dalish. I have to get this under control. I can do this."

Aria smiled at this, knowing that she had succeeded. She wouldn't have to make him Tranquil. "Where will you go? What will you do?"

"Tevinter. They know about dreamers and the Fade. They can help me learn to master this power. I can't go back. Please, tell my mother not to worry? Perhaps once I'm not putting people in danger, I can return. But until then..."

"I will tell her," Aria said with a bow. Beside her, Justice smiled.

"Thank you, for everything," Feynriel said, quickly grasping her hand before he disappeared from the Fade.

"Well done," Justice simply said before he too disappeared.

Aria turned towards the gates. She didn't want to go back, herself. She didn't want to see Fenris. Or even Varric. Or Anders. She just wished they could put her at home, in her own bed, and leave her alone. She wouldn't mind if that meant for the rest of her life, even. She could feel a tugging within her head, and she knew Marethari was calling her back. She fought it and decided to go to the mages quarters. Maybe Bethany was there. She desperately wanted to see her sister, to talk to her, to let all of this out to someone she knew would actually care.

Aria ran to the mage quarters, fighting hard against Marethari's magic, and threw open the door. Bethany sat on a cot, a gaggle of children surrounding her while she read to them. She turned... And Aria was looking into Marethari's eyes. The elf said nothing, but her eyes were full of concern.

Tears rolled down Aria's cheeks and she closed her eyes tightly. How much could a heart take? How much could a body take? How much could a mind take? She wanted to break, but something in her wouldn't let it happen. A sob racked her body and Aria rolled onto her side, her arms wrapped around her own rib cage as though to keep her from exploding into a million shards. Marethari stroked her hair, drawing her head to rest in the matriarch's lap.

No one said anything. Anders knelt next to Marethari and Aria, confusion and worry playing across his visage in dark waves. Aria curled her knees to her chest and fought the sobs that ripped through her body. Anders lifted her then, cradling her to him. He looked to Marethari.

"You said she was successful—what happened?" Marethari asked Anders in a hushed tone. Arianni looked on in fear.

"She was fine when Justice left the Fade. I don't know why it was so hard to bring her back or what she saw. She needs rest. She's been awake three days straight now and has been fighting the entire time."

Marethari nodded and leaned close so that she could whisper in Aria's ear. "No matter what you saw, child, it wasn't real. Demons know what each of us need most in our lives, and they'll use that any way they can to break us. Don't let that light go out. Too many love you and depend on it."

Aria clutched Anders's cloak to her face at this and her sobbing grew. Marethari smoothed her hair, a sad smile on her lips. She nodded mutely and Anders took leave with Aria in his arms, pointedly ignoring Varric and Fenris.

She fell back asleep before he'd even left Arianni's hovel, leaving Marethari to explain everything to Arianni. But there were no dreams this time. There was only darkness and consciousness was blessedly rendered unattainable.

Anders woke her before he set her down on her doorstep. Several onlookers looked at them with varying expressions of shock, fear, scandal, distaste, and a few of compassion. Aria didn't care. She straightened herself and wiped her eyes.

"Thank you," she managed, not refusing the embrace he engulfed her in, his chin resting on her shoulder.

"I'm not going to ask. I know Varric and Fenris betraying you was not something that would undo you, though. I just... I want you to have peace, Aria. I want you to be happy," he murmured, smoothing her hair as Marethari had done.

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and buried her face against his chest. "Those things... They're nothing I will ever have. I think the sooner I come to terms with that, the less I'll be hurt by them."

Anders pulled away to look down into her eyes. Night had fallen, and the full moon made the Hightown mansions and courtyards as bright as day with its silvery light. Aria didn't care anymore who saw. Her life wasn't her own anymore. She belonged to Kirkwall, and no one else. But Kirkwall didn't care, so long as she kept defending it.

"You will. Some day. The night is darkest before the dawn."

"Right. Well, the night's still pretty bright now, so I guess I'm fucked," Aria bitterly laughed, swiping at her tears.

Anders laughed too and he gently released her. "Get some rest. I'll call on you in the morning to see how you're doing."

"Thank you. Good night, Anders."

"Good night, Aria," he said, kissing her hand and departing quickly.

Aria went inside and bolted the door behind her. Bodahn met her as she entered the large hall after the foyer.

"Mistress, you look weary to the bones," Bodahn sadly said as he took her cloak.

"I am. But I think right now, I'm more hungry than weary," Aria mustered some fake cheer for the kindly dwarf's benefit.

"You're just in time, then. Orana and I just put supper on. Your mother is at a dinner party with some of her noble friends," Bodahn replied, hanging her cloak on the wall rack. "Shall I have Sandal put some water for a bath on the fire?"

"No, don't trouble him. I see he's quite engrossed in his enchantments. I can put the water on myself," Aria kindly said, following Bodahn into the great hall. She went over to her desk and found several letters needed her attention. She grabbed them and took them upstairs where she deposited them on her writing desk. She then went and sat on the edge of her bed, looking into the flames roaring in the hearth there.

Aria's thoughts turned back for the thousandth time to Fenris. He'd betrayed her in the Fade for power. Varric had done the same. This fact softened the blow to her heart that was Fenris's betrayal. She held Varric in the highest esteem and knew that his actions would bother him far more than they bothered her. Did Fenris feel the same? After the cold glare he'd given her as she returned to Kirkwall, she had deep doubts. If he felt so much hatred for her, why come? What was he even waiting at the gates for her at all? Worst of all, with Merrill? He despised her to the core.

Her head hurt. Her heart hurt. Her bones ached at the very marrow with exhaustion. But the thought of sleep was even more unbearable. She didn't want to see Bethany in her dreams. Aria missed her sister terribly, and she felt as though she had no one with whom she could confide. No one but Fenris knew what happened, though the past week several of her closest companions had questioned after her. She knew if she confided in any of them, it would create a rift in their unique little fellowship. And though he would never admit it, Fenris still needed all of them. Being as close as they all were however, she wouldn't be able to keep it a secret for much longer.

Varric asked if she'd slept more than an hour a night for the past month, then asked who had given her twin black eyes. He visited almost every evening with the rumours of Kirkwall and to ask Aria's advice on business matters with the guild. He even had flowers sent to her the day before they left for the Deep Roads; a lovely bouquet of at least five different species of purple flowers.

Anders said nothing, but had increased his gestures of kindness; not in a way that could be construed as overly affectionate or trying too hard. Little things like sending her a new whet stone and polishing silks, having tea with her in the early evening at his clinic, and sending a man to repair her broken chandelier; courtesy of Sandal.

Aveline wasn't as cross with her as usual and actually did her awkward best to lighten Hawke's mood. She told jokes where she nearly always fudged the punchlines, asked Aria to host a few training sessions for the guard's rogues, and she droned on about the proper length of a good dagger. Aria was thankful for the distractions; awkwardness felt much better than pain.

Isabela had begged Aria to go shopping with her, and when trying on dresses, Isabela had looked at her with such sadness Aria thought perhaps she had imagined it. Later, Isabela forced Aria to eat an entire coconut shell filled with cheese curds and some sinfully delicious ice cream. Aria actually enjoyed the ice cream enough to have a second helping. Then Isabela forced her to get drunk. Perhaps forced wasn't the right word, but prior to that, Hawke hadn't drank anything but water to keep her stomach from rumbling in over three weeks.

Merrill had been the most prevalent. The few days before Aria departed for the Deep Roads, Merrill was nearly a constant companion, chattering away about anything and everything, dragging Aria to the gardens, or to the alienage for charity work she did, or to cliffs to count the ships in the harbour. Aria was thankful for the elf's efforts and found she rather enjoyed Merrill's bubbly, naïve, sweet brand of personality. Aria was at a loss for how something so rooted in good could accept the offer of something so brazenly evil.

"Mistress?" Orana's voice cut into her thoughts.

"I'm sorry, did you need something?" Hawke distractedly responded.

"Supper is ready. May I...inquire after something, Mistress?"

Aria nodded. "Of course. What is it?"

"I know it's not my business entirely, but I cannot stand to see you so unhappy. I saw some of the servants fall in love, in Tevinter. It is both tragic and wonderful. My own mother met my father under Hadriana's family's ownership. Papa used to tell me that sometimes, you have to go through all the unpleasantness in the world in order to understand and appreciate the joy and the beauty of life. He also used to say, 'Mend a bird's broken wing, and they'll never stop flying'," Orana sweetly said, taking Hawke's hand to help her stand.

Aria regarded the servant girl with awe. "How old are you, Orana?"

"17, Mistress."

"You are far too young to be that profoundly wise," Aria complimented her, wrapping an arm around Orana's shoulders. "What's for supper?"

"A fine mutton stew, fire-seared asparagus, and black cherry tart," Orana giggled.

"That sounds sublime," Aria groaned, her stomach rumbling in agreement.

Aria ate supper with her servants and though she said little, she felt very involved in their conversations and camaraderie. Their mirth and normalcy brought warmth to the chill that had taken her bones. When she climbed the staircase to go to bed, Orana stopped at the bottom step.

"I've never felt more like an equal anywhere else in my life," she said, tears in the corners of her large, green eyes.

Aria came down the stairs and embraced the girl for a moment. "I am thankful that I could help you."

"Thank you, Mistress. I feared I was too bold with you earlier, but yet I feel I must say one more thing. I hope it does not cause you distress, nor do I hope that you will think less of me for saying so," she said, sniffling a little. Her spine stiffened a little and she gently took Aria's shoulders. "He's miserable without you, and I don't know what happened between you, but if you could just forgive him... I think it would all be ok."

Aria smiled at this, but it did not reach her eyes. "It isn't me that has to forgive him. He must learn to forgive himself."

Orana nodded at this. "If there's nothing else you need of me, I bid you good night, Mistress."

"Good night, Orana," Hawke replied, going back up the stairs and finally into her bedroom. She softly closed the door and looked over at her writing desk. One of the letters bore the seal of the Viscount, another bore the seal of Orsino the First Enchanter, and still another bore the seal of Knight-Commander Meredith. Aria sighed wearily and tossed them to the floor. She then took up her journal, opened to the end of the last entry, and began writing.

The sound of pots clanging around in the kitchen woke her early the next morning. Aria stood and stretched, her joints sore from sleeping in unnatural positions. She still wore her armour, and she reeked of stale sweat, blood, and road grime. She glanced over at the hearth and saw that the three enormous kettles she would have used for her bath were already full and warming in the coals. Aria smiled at this, then sat down to re-read what she had penned in her journal last night. Her eyes stopped on the last line, an unfinished sentence.

_He wanted to be seen as an equal to the Magisters_

Aria re-read the sentence at least ten times, mulling that around in her brain. She decided to leave the journal entry there. With a satisfied sigh, she snapped the book shut and set about getting cleaned up from a very, very long journey.

It was a new day and she was tired of feeling like a schooner had sailed through her chest.


	30. Chapter TWENTY-NINE

**Chapter 29**

One of the letters was a summons from Seneschal Bran. The others were from merchants and townspeople asking for her aid in small matters. Guard this shipment, find this person, solve this murder. As Aria walked up the steps of the Vicount's Keep to answer the summons from the Seneschal, she ran into Aveline, who was just coming back from a luncheon with the guardsmen.

"Hawke, there's something I need your help with. It's a private matter and only to be discussed...well...privately," Aveline whispered as she passed. "Meet me in my office when you're done with your other business. I wouldn't bother going and talking to the Seneschal though. He just wants to use you so he doesn't have to get his own hands dirty."

"Tell me something I don't know," Aria quipped good-naturedly, accepting the forearm embrace with Aveline. "Let's go to your office then, and you can tell me what this pressing private business is."

As they turned to head for the barracks, Varric's voice hailed Hawke from the Keep's main door. Accompanying him were Fenris and Anders. Aria was shocked to see them together of their own accord, but then, last night was Wicked Grace. They probably all passed out drunk in Varric's room at the Hanged Man. It wasn't a completely uneducated guess.

"You're a very difficult woman to keep pace with," Varric said as he joined them at the top of the stairs that led into the guardsmen's barracks.

"I wasn't aware anyone was trying to keep pace," Aria suspiciously stated. She ignored the elf that stood next to the dwarf.

"Are you feelin' alright Hawke?" Varric asked, his face a mask of mock concern.

"I'm...fine, why?" Aria countered.

"You passed on the perfect set-up for a short joke," Anders laughed, his eyes lit benevolently.

"I've graduated to dragon jokes," Aria said, unable to muster her trademark sarcasm in a believable manner.

"Hawke, before you go do whatever it is Aveline has you doing, might I have a word?" Varric entreated her.

Aria sighed and trumped down the steps. "I'll be right back," she said for Aveline's benefit. The Guard-Captain turned on her heel and left Anders and Fenris standing on the landing by themselves.

"Look, about what happened-"

"Varric, it's done. And as far as I'm concerned, it was all a dream. You don't have to explain anything to me, nor should you feel ashamed."

"Where's the hard-headed, smart-mouth Hawke when I want her?" Varric chuckled. "Seriously, though. I am sorry. But, what concerns me more is why you wouldn't wake up when the Keeper, Merrill, _and _Anders were doing whatever magic it was to drag you out of there. What happened?"

Aria turned away from him, only to meet the crystalline green gaze she both adored and abhorred. She squeezed her eyes shut and lifted her head to the ceiling for a moment. When she turned back to answer, Varric regarded her with rare, acute concern.

"That bad, huh?" he said. "I won't press."

"I wanted to see Bethany. I wanted...to talk to her, to let go of some of this...baggage. I guess that's what happens in dreams. You lose sight of what's real once you realize everything you want is there, just waiting for you to claim it," Aria softly said, hoping Fenris's stellar hearing didn't pick up the conversation.

"I know it's silly to offer and you probably won't accept, but... If you need to talk, I'm here Hawke. I might not have the perfect feminine perspective on things, but I'm pretty good at deciphering complex situations," the dwarf kindly offered.

Aria sighed. "Careful what you offer. I might take you up on it."

"If you do, I'll buy your drinks for the entire night," Varric laughed.

"You have yourself a deal, sir," Aria said, shaking his hand.

"Great! Now let's go see what Red has in store for us. Bound to be entertaining in the very least," Varric replied, shaking her hand in turn and walking back up the stairs with her.

Aria did her best to seem bubbly and devil-may-care, as she was so oft described in Varric's tales. It was not an easy facade, and she doubted she did it convincingly. They met up with Aveline in her office and she hastily closed the door, glowering at the three males present. She turned to Hawke.

"I have a favor to ask you; it should be a small matter, but I worry. I need you to give something to Guardsman Donnic, here in the barracks. No questions, and he is not to know it is from me," Aveline addressed the rogue woman.

"Sure. I love being a lowly message carrier," Aria quipped.

"I'm serious, Hawke," Aveline threatened. "Take this package to Guardsman Donnic."

"Donnic? Oh, right! Didn't we save his skin once?" Aria asked, turning to Varric, who nodded. "What is it I'm taking to him?"

"Did you forget about the 'no-questions' part already?" Aveline grumpily replied as she busied herself with straightening the stacks of paperwork on her desk. Worry etched her brow and her freckles were swallowed by the blush that rose in her cheeks, contrasting not too becomingly with her fiery orange hair.

Aria groaned. "Fine, fine. Maker, no one knows how to have fun anymore."

"This is…odd. Does anyone else feel dirty and used right now?" Varric said as they departed from Aveline's office to find Donnic.

"I'd think you should be used to it by now," Aria replied, unnerved by how closely Fenris walked next to her. She could feel the heat of his skin and she avoided looking at him.

"In normal circumstances, yes, but Aveline's dirty work is something else entirely. We're going to get caught," Varric groused.

"I doubt it's dirty work. Aveline's too…boring for that," Anders quipped.

"Well whatever it is, let's get it over with. I've got other things to do today," Aria said then, Fenris's closeness grating on her nerves.

They found Donnic reading a map in one of the quarter halls. He stood when he saw Aria approaching and offered her a gentlemanly bow and a smile.

"Serah Hawke," he greeted her, extending his forearm. She took it and he continued. "It's been some time. You're here in Hightown now, right? I think the Captain mentioned it."

Aria inclined her head and released his arm.

"I see your uncle now and then on my patrols," Donnic continued. "But, we don't talk."

"That's wise. He's like to try and swindle you out of your boots," Aria laughed, trying to make it sound smooth and natural. She thought it did. She didn't know if anyone else did.

"Somehow, I don't think he'd succeed," Donnic chuckled.

"I see you've mended well after that little mess we pulled you out of," Aria kindly stated.

"No worse for wear," he replied. "Thanks to you. Guard is a good career if you're careful. A short one if you're not. And the Captain makes sure we're careful."

"Sounds like you've a lot of respect for the Captain," Aria observed aloud.

"She's an amazing woman," Donnic softly conceded.

"Speaking of, I have something for you. Apparently it's fairly important? I wasn't given many details," Aria segued, handing him the package Aveline had bestowed upon her.

"What's this?" Donnic asked, carefully opening the brown paper to reveal a bouquet of orange flowers set in the shape of a shield. "It's a copper relief of…marigolds? Oh, and it helpfully says so. 'Marigolds'."

Aria stole a questioning glance at Varric, who was biting his tongue and shaking with silent laughter.

"Well, how crafty," Donnic politely said, looking at Hawke as if she'd lost her Maker damned mind. "Is there a meaning to this that I should know?"

"Just—uh—keep it," Aria struggled to save face. "I'm sure it has deeper meaning."

"It would have to," Donnic awkwardly stated. "Right. I'm sure we both have things to do. Of varying import. Serah Hawke," he said in dismissal, and Hawke couldn't beat a retreat fast enough.

"That was…painfully awkward," Anders said as they left the guards' quarters. "What was Aveline thinking?"

"I don't know but I'm not one for being put on the spot in such an instance," Aria growled, stalking back towards Aveline's office in ill-concealed malaise.

Aveline all but jumped them when they entered her office again. "You're back! Of course you are. You're efficient. Get things dones. Good or ill," she stated, seeking to placate the piqued Hawke. "So, how did Donnic react?"

Aria looked to Varric, who had to turn around and walk out the door. His guffaws could be heard all through the barracks. Aria looked back at Aveline, who actually appeared as though she might be about to cry.

"As one expect when confused," Aria answered her query.

"I thought it was clear!" Aveline said in distress. "Metal is strong, copper ages well, flowers are soft."

Aria looked at Anders and Fenris, who seemed just as befuddled as she was. Varric came back in then, swiping at his eyes. He'd laughed himself to tears it appeared. He shook his head when he looked at Hawke's expression and couldn't say anything for fear of bursting into laughter again.

"I've clearly gone about this the wrong way," Aveline broke the confused silence. She shifted through some papers on her desk and found a long scroll, which she promptly handed to Aria. "Don't talk to him again. Just take this. The duty patrols for next week. Post it to the roster and just…listen."

"A silent role? Maker yes please," Aria said as she took it. "It's a short walk though…"

"Hawke…" Aveline threatened.

"Yeah, yeah, I got it," Aria turned with a wave of her free hand.

"I need to know exactly how he reacts. That's key," Aveline said to Aria's retreating form. "Thsnk you!"

"She'd do a lot better to get this fellow alone in a room," Anders laughed as they walked out of the office. "Life's too short!"

Varric tried to stifle a giggle but it came out in a fit of snorts. Aria then realized what Aveline was up to. She was sweet on the man but didn't know how to make it known. The staunch Captain of the Guard was actually daunted by something!

Aria thumped Varric on the head lightly with her closed fist. "Don't. Let's just see where this goes. Maybe she actually has a plan."

"Games of strategy aren't exactly her strong suit," Fenris said, the first words Aria had heard him speak since this whole endeavor began. It constricted her chest and she had to bury the emotion that roiled to the surface.

"Indeed they aren't," Aria cordially replied, posting the duty roster. They stepped back and pretended to check their gear while the guards circled around.

"Hey Donnic! Whose pucker have you been greasing to get Hightown?" one of the female guards said as she read the roster.

Donnic strolled up, a mixture of anger and confusion settling on his dark features. "What? You're daft. I'm working dockside on those smugglers," he said as strode up to the roster.

"Says here you're guarding the square. Always been a make-work job, that one. You someone's pet?" the female guard, Brennan, growled at him.

"Check your eyes, it's a mistake," Donnic fired back.

"Says the pet," Brennan sneered, then walked away.

Donnic shook his head in disbelief then rubbed his brow as he read the roster over a third and fourth time. "You have got to be kidding me. What did I do to get that post?" he morosely said to himself.

Aria inclined her head toward Aveline's office and the group of them walked nonchalantly back. When they entered, Aria shook her head. The questioning look on Aveline's face demanded an answer.

"He thought he had offended you," Aria diplomatically stated.

"Donnic thinks I'm punishing him?" Aveline asked, obviously distressed. "But, Hightown is a safe patrol. A reward."

Aria shrugged. "You wanted his reaction, and there it is."

Aveline sighed and began pacing the length of the office. "All right, I can fix this. I need… I need…" she kept pacing then looked at Aria. "I need three goats and a sheaf of wheat. You'll take them to his mother."

Aria crossed her arms over her chest and cocked one eyebrow as she regarded the Captain, who had stopped pacing to issue that order.

"It's a dowry tradition. Maybe it will smooth the process," Aveline helplessly stated.

"I think my jaw just landed in the Deep Roads somewhere," Varric smoothly interjected, his composure regained.

"Not a word, dwarf," Aveline snarled.

"I wouldn't dream of mocking your…unconventional courtship," Varric sniggered.

Aria stepped in to diffuse the growing tension. "Aveline, out with it already. You know I'll help where I can."

"What am I to say?" the Captain asked in desperation. "That a grown woman can't speak her mind? I've been focused on being Captain for so long, that's all I know."

"It can't be a complete mystery. You were married once, right?" Anders put in his two cents.

"That was a long time ago. It was easier, or seemed to be," Aveline answered, her guard down now.

"So…no one…since you've been in Kirkwall?" Aria asked, feeling oddly selfish about her own relationship turmoil in light of Aveline's confession.

"I am…diligent on behalf of my men. And I've neglected many other things."

Aria shook her head in disbelief. "I can't imagine _you_ having trouble speaking your mind."

"It's just…fear. I know it's foolish, but I can't get away from it," she replied, her eyes darting to Fenris for a moment, then back to Hawke. "What about you and Fenris? How do you make it work?"

Varric and Anders both stifled coughs of surprise and Aria found herself automatically looking to the elf. He cocked that half grin of his and one eyebrow shot up, challenging her to say something. It was not at all the reaction she thought he'd have to that question, and she wasn't quite sure what to say herself.

Aria turned back to Aveline, whose eyes pleaded with her for an answer. "Maybe…we're not the best example," Aria nimbly hedged.

"But you understand," Aveline pressed. "I feel paralyzed. I hate it."

"Well…none of this anonymous gift giving is really working. How is he to know it's from you if you don't tell him?" Aria parried. "I guess, I'm saying, what _will_ work?"

"I'm the Captain. He's my guardsman. I can't get past that," Aveline sighed in desperation.

"There are places in this city where no one cares if you're Guard-Captain," Varric silkily interjected.

"What? Just…go out somewhere? Like it's that easy?" Aveline challenged.

"Yes!" Aria exasperatedly said. "It _is_ that easy!"

Aveline hung her head for a moment in self-defeat. Then, she looked to Hawke and said, "Tell Donnic… Invite him to the Hanged Man. Don't tell him about me. Make something up. It's a surprise, or just you, or a group… Anything to get him there. He's not like the others. I don't want him to think he's meeting the Captain."

Aria nodded and the four of them walked back out to look for Donnic again.

"She should be doing this herself," Fenris growled. "If you're doing all of this…this…absurdity to get his attention, he's likely to think it's you after him."

Jealousy. It was as bold-faced and open as anything could have been. Anders and Varric exchanged a knowing glance and both of them smiled to themselves. Aria didn't see it. She was too focused on the fact that she was going to run away screaming if she had to endure the elf's presence longer. She was so tuned to him it was maddening. But, the green tint to his tone gave her hope and she held on to that for the moment.

"What would you have me tell him, then?" Aria asked, steeling herself as she turned to look him in the eyes.

"A group is going out for drinks. We'll all be there," Fenris replied, stepping closer to her. He lifted his hand slightly, then put it back down at his side. "I think he'd be more likely to come."

Aria sighed and opened the door to the quarters where Donnic stayed. The guard looked up and seemed…annoyed?

"Serah Donnic, I apologize for incessantly bugging you, but are you free this evening?" Aria silkily stated, instantly registering a change in Donnic's demeanor. He actually smiled at her.

"I…have no immediate patrols. Why?" Donnic replied with courtesy.

"Everyone's going out for drinks at the Hanged Man, and I was wondering if you would be there," Aria coyly stated, returning his smile.

"Blast! Why am I always the last to know about these things?" Donnic laughed. "Alright, I'll be there."

"Excellent! I hope to see you, then," Aria flirtatiously replied. "I've got some other business to tend to, but I'll be there later."

"Of course, Hawke," Donnic said, bowing slightly.

Aria inclined her head, then made a hasty exit. Varric chuckled as they left the barracks. Anders was smiling knowingly. Fenris's demeanor was more broody than normal. They went back to Aveline's office.

"Alright, Aveline," Aria said as she entered, giving the Captain no room to speak. "You _will_ be at the Hanged Man this evening. If you aren't, you may not like the consequences."

Aveline sighed. "I'll be there."

"Right, well, now that I have my evening booked, I should go see if the Viscount has other plans," Aria snarkily stated, giving no one else room to talk. She turned on her heel and bounded up the stairs that led to the Seneschal's office. She was chagrined to see she had a three person entourage.

"Hawke, if I may," Varric cut her off and held his hands out to stop her.

"Varric—"

"You're not busy. Not today," Varric chided, pushing her so that she turned toward the Keep's doors. "Work can wait. Today is about fun."

"Riiiiight. Fun. I know what that is," Aria said, allowing him to lead her back out into Hightown.

"No work, Hawke. I mean it. I'll know if you went back in to talk to that lickspittle the Viscount employs as a councilor," he said, turning to the guard at the door and flipping him a sovereign. The guard caught it and looked at Hawke, then nodded.

"Why you slippery…" Aria started, then realized Anders and Varric were well on their way down the stairs into the city.

Fenris stood on the doorstep and watched them go, then turned to look at Aria. "I know you…need to talk. About a lot of things."

"And you don't?" Aria challenged, not waiting for a response. She darted down the steps, aware of the second set of footfalls shadowing hers.

He slipped his arm through hers as they alighted the steps but said nothing until he'd guided her towards the chantry gardens. "I do need to talk but… I haven't the right words."

"Then, it isn't time to talk yet," Aria said, moving to walk away.

"You think leaving you was easy?" he challenged.

Aria didn't know what to do. Part of her desperately wanted to hear anything he had to say, while another part of her wanted to ram a dagger through his skull. She was warring enough with herself. She didn't want to war anymore with him, too.

He grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her to face him, his movements firm but gentle. "I…don't know what to do."

"You got your memories back and then lost them again. I get it," Aria whispered as a fine trembling took to her limbs. Her heart felt as though it would hammer its way out of her chest. She felt sick to her stomach, and her head swam.

"It's…much more complicated than that," Fenris replied, his grip tightening. He helped her to a low bench under a beautiful willow tree. Its weeping branches offered them a shield from prying eyes and the outside world.

"I am a master at 'complicated'," Aria managed through clenched teeth. Her stomach was about to give at any moment.

"You look ill," Fenris softly stated, kneeling before her.

"I feel ill," Aria bluntly replied. She lowered her head between her knees and struggled to draw breath. She had never believed in the existence of paralyzing panic attacks, but now that she was having one, she recanted that view.

"What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

Aria swatted his hands away as he began to assess her. "I am not hurt. Not physically anyway. Stop it."

Fenris stood with a look of mild consternation. "I think Donnic is interested."

At this, Aria had to laugh. "Well I'll let him down gently."

"You're serious?"

"I am not interested."

"Just in him, or…?" Fenris pressed.

"Why are we doing this? You can't stand me. What does it matter what I think or what he thinks?"

He looked at her as though she'd just slapped him across the face. "I can't stand you? Aria, are you really so blind?"

"Well let's see… I taught you to read. I helped you get back at Hadriana, helped you find out you have a sister, let you ravage me, and then you just… Up and leave, like it was nothing—"

"It was not nothing!" Fenris almost roared. "It was the most…jarring and _spiritual _experience I've ever had!"

Aria looked up at him in shock, moved her lips as though she was going to say something, but nothing came out. He sat next to her, his hand covered hers.

"I can't… I can't talk about everything, but I remembered some…very…unpleasant things," Fenris softly said. "I tried to find you, but every time I came, you were gone. Rescuing people, doing favours for big people, making yourself unapproachable…"

"You didn't even know I went to the Deep Roads until a week later. How can I believe—"

"I was giving you space! You made it quite clear I wasn't a priority in your agenda—"

Aria cut him off this time, her ire growing. "No, no, no. Don't you dare turn this around on me. I made you my top priority, and how did you repay me?"

Fenris glared silently at her in response.

"Yes. That. Exactly that. That is how you repaid me. With anger and blame and hatred and—"

It wasn't words he used to cut her off this time. He yanked her to him and silenced her with his kiss. Aria didn't fight. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back. Tears spilled out of her eyes. When she pulled away moments later, she realized the salt she was tasting was not just her own. His eyes were brimmed as well.

"You're the first I've ever had," he whispered. "I don't know what this is. I don't know what to do. I just…we moved too fast."

Aria regarded him with marked incredulity. "Your first? But you said…."

"I've never loved anyone before. Not like that. Not as…an equal," Fenris quietly stated.

Aria stood and paced beneath the protective canopy. Fenris stood as well and watched her, his expression going between fear, worry, and hope.

"Have I offended?" Fenris nervously queried on her fourth or fifth circuit.

"No. No it isn't that… Look, let's just get this matchmaking bit thing over with. We could…we could use some time to digest everything."

"You want me to come with you to the Hanged Man?"

"I don't know. I guess you don't have to. I'm just going to stall Donnic long enough for Aveline to approach him and then I'll probably head home. Or up to Varric's room for a drink or ten."

"I will meet you at Varric's then," Fenris said. "In the meantime, I need to fetch a new book I purchased last week. Perhaps you can…help me with the more challenging language?"

"It's a start," Aria hopefully consented.

"I will see you there," he said as his hand cupped her chin. He lowered his lips to hers, briefly imparting a kiss before he darted off towards his mansion.

Aria touched her lips and sat down on the bench once more. She tried to be angry at him but she couldn't. She was crazy. That had to be it. She was absolutely batshit crazy. Finally, she got to her feet and traipsed down to Lowtown.

The Hanged Man was not as busy as it normally was. Give it an hour or two and the place would be packed though, once the dockworkers and farmhands came in after a long day's toils. Donnic was already waiting at a table. He looked at her suspiciously when she took the stool across from him.

"Serah Hawke," he politely said, offering her the second tankard of ale.

"Ah, my thanks," Aria genuinely replied, taking a hearty swig. Donnic smiled at this.

"So, I thought there was a group," Donnic said after a moment.

"Plans change, apparently," Aria quipped, looking around for the red-headed warrioress.

"Apparently," Donnic mused, taking a drink. "So tell me about the Deep Roads. You've made two expeditions, of a sort, and both times you've come back with great new wealth."

"Ah, the wealth I don't much care about," Aria earnestly said, taking a drink. "That was just for my mother."

"Leandra is a lovely person," Donnic interjected. "I pass her when she goes to visit Gamlen. She always has a kind word."

"She's too gentle of a soul for everything that's happened," Aria concurred.

"I've heard stories. You had a brother, did you not?"

"Yes. He was…a good young man. A bit of an arse, but his heart was good."

"So he was like you," Donnic teased, chuckling.

"My reputation precedes me," Aria also laughed. She did like Donnic. He was a good man. Aveline made a good choice. The thought of her had Aria looking around again, and instead of seeing the ginger, she locked gazes with Fenris. He stood on the landing, also surveying the slightly growing crowd of patrons. When their eyes met, he smiled ruefully and his eyes were questioning. Aria imperceptibly shook her head, and he caught the gesture. His brows furrowed and he went back towards Varric's room.

"You seem ill at ease. Am I—keeping you from your friends?" Donnic said then.

"No, no. I just thought someone else was coming," Aria distractedly answered his question and looked back at the door as it opened. Another guardsman came in with two friends, but they went to a far table and didn't acknowledge either Aria or Donnic. None of them were Aveline. "Would you like another drink?"

"Maker, yes!" Donnic exasperatedly sighed, and he seemed slightly crestfallen.

Aria decided that if Aveline wasn't here within the next ten minutes, she was going to throttle the Guard-Captain to death with the hilt of Aveline's own sword. Aria got up to fetch two more tankards of ale from the bar, engaging in a short conversation with Corff, the bartender, before returning to the table. Donnic took a couple swigs from the tankard, looking expectantly at Hawke.

"So, you've been a guard through quite a few changes. What do you think of Aveline?" Aria asked, seeking to break the silence.

"Look, if you've come here to try and start…something, I prefer women with a little backbone," Donnic said, standing. "Thank you for the drink, Serah Hawke. It has been…an interesting time."

Aria watched him leave, shaking her head sadly. Plan B would happen. She was going to punch that red-headed shedevil the next time she saw her. Aria wouldn't have to wait long. Nearly the moment after Donnic disappeared out the front door, Aveline strode in, her face contorted in anxiety.

"I…I couldn't do it," Aveline pleaded as soon as Hawke was within earshot. She closed the distance quickly and the mist in the warrioress's eyes softened Aria's resolve to pummel her. "What did he say?"

By now, Fenris, Varric, and Anders had materialized from the dwarf's quarters and they joined the two women.

"He thinks I'm interested in him," Aria exasperatedly stated. "He told me to grow a backbone." That last statement was a jibe intended for Aveline.

"I'm an idiot," Aveline lamented, holding her head in her hands for a second. She then looked to Hawke, her eyes pleading.

"Well if the shoe fits," Aria testily agreed.

"You're not helping! This is…so bloody difficult," the Guard-Captain said, taking Aria's nearly full tankard and draining half of it.

"Again, she deflects," Fenris chimed in then, challenging Aveline.

"I will not risk—" Aveline started to stay, but Fenris cut her off.

"You're squandering something you don't understand."

"He's right," Aria backed him up before Aveline could reply. "You have to be the one to talk to him. To show him. To…go after him. We've been doing this your way. Now we're going to do it mine."

"What do you suggest?" Aveline asked, her demeanor one of defeat.

Aria thought a moment, ideas forming and then retreating, until she met Fenris's eyes again. How had they met? How had they expressed interest in one another?

Combat. Aveline was good at combat. That's where she was at her natural best.

"Patrol," she said at last. "Take him on a patrol. You'll be more at ease, he'll be more at ease, and you can just…go from there."

"Killing highwaymen doesn't exactly provide an intimate setting, though," Aveline groused. "And I'm tired of embarrassing myself. I can't fight _and _talk."

"I'll clear the way for you, then," Aria said, not letting Aveline formulate an exit strategy. She'd come too far. Aria was going to make her see it through.

"You're too good at this," Aveline laughed then. "Is it any wonder you've all but taken Hightown? You clear a route up the coast and I'll…I'll think of something to say."

"Give me time to suit up, and you go get Donnic. I'll light the signal fires when the routes are clear," Aria said, motioning for the rest of them to follow her.

"I've got to get Bianca. I'll meet you at the gate," Varric said, bounding away and up the stairs to his room.

Anders and Fenris were battle ready where they stood. They followed Aria up to Hightown and she ran inside her mansion to get the rest of her battle implements. Moments later, they arrived at the gate. Varric was waiting as promised, and they headed up the wending trail to the coast.

Aveline and Donnic were ahead of them, having already cleared a few bandits. Aria took the trail that went up the mountain slightly, but more or less ran parallel to the route Donnic and Aveline took. They cleared out a pocket of highwaymen and Aria lit the signal fire, eavesdropping the conversation betwixt the two guards as they passed.

"So, this route's pretty quiet," Donnic said as they passed beneath the outcropping where the signal fire blazed. He looked suspiciously at it, then back at the Captain.

"Yes, and it's a real nice night for an evening," Aveline blurted, her cheeks blushing terribly.

"Um…ahem. As you say, Captain," Donnic awkwardly replied. There really was no other way he could respond. He continued up the route.

"Yes. As I say," Aveline nervously laughed, then shook her head in dismay as she followed after Donnic.

Hawke stood from her eavesdropping vantage point and shook her head. "Maker, she's bad at this."

The rest of them stifled laughter as they continued double-time up the rocky paths to clear the next section. When they lit the second signal fire, all four of them hunkered down behind a boulder to listen in on the two lovebirds.

"If it isn't done right, the blade can be too soft. Quenching the steel is a vital step that can make or break a sword," Aveline was saying.

"Right," Donnic replied in absent-minded boredom.

"A blade for every purpose," Aveline continued, oblivious. "What do you think? About blades?"

"I'm sorry, Captain. I drifted off a bit," Donnic answered her query, his eyes darting to the cliffs, then down to the coast. He was in fight mode, not in romance mode.

"Right. Of course," Aveline tersely replied, stalking off up the trail and leaving a very confused Donnic in her wake.

"Ugh, painful," Aria groaned when she stood.

"Maker, just kiss him already," Anders said as they pressed on to the last signal fire. "He's not one for bandying about with shy little hints."

"How in the world did she ever get married?" Varric mused.

"Well, they didn't have any children, so maybe it was never consummated," Aria giggled.

"That is probably truer than you know," Varric chuckled as well.

They met another pocket of resistance, which they were quick to dispel. The Tal-Vashoth were quite wealthy and Aria was happy to refill her coin purse from their indiscretions. They made it to the third signal fire and they headed back towards Hightown, shadowing Aveline and Donnic. Aria made a quick decision to head them off and confront Aveline.

"Well, Guardsman, good patrol," Aveline was saying, undoubtedly beating a hasty retreat. "I think we're done. And I—" she trailed off for a second when Aria and her companions blocked the way. "Hawke! What a surprise… What are you doing here?"

"Aveline…" Aria said, her hand on her hip as she jutted her chin in Donnic's direction.

"Hawke, don't—" Aveline pleaded, throwing her hands up as though blocking a blow.

"I think you'll come around, once it's all out in the open," Aria gently said as her gaze shifted momentarily toward Donnic. He looked at her with suspicion.

"Would someone _please_ tell me what's going on?" Donnic asked, his tone one of slight annoyance.

"Alright," Varric interjected then, not giving Aria or Aveline a chance to delicately resolve this. "I'm going to draw a picture of where she wants to touch you."

Anders let out a loud guffaw at this and turned away from them in a fit of coughing to cover up his laughter. Fenris's brow quirked in amusement. Aria grimaced and placed her palm on her forehead. Aveline looked absolutely devastated. And Donnic… Well, he looked quite pleased, actually.

"Captain?" Donnic asked her in obvious bemusement.

Aveline whimpered in response.

"I…should…get back to the barracks," Donnic said then, stepping quickly past Aria and her other companions.

When he was out of earshot, Aveline leveled a furious gaze on Aria. "I thought we were friends!"

"That is exactly why I have suffered through all of this," Aria flippantly countered.

"I…I have to fix this," Aveline frantically stammered. "He'll file a complaint. Ask for a transfer. You!" she said, jabbing Aria in the chest with her index finger so hard Aria was forced to take a step back to keep her balance, "You're coming back to the barracks to explain why you put him on the spot. Double-time, Hawke or so help me…"

"What the fuck? I'm here, risking my neck, putting my own personal reputation on the line to help you, and you're pinning this all on me? You can't even tell the man you're sweet on him!" Aria yelled, keeping pace with Aveline as she stalked back up the hills to the city.

"This is serious!" Aveline yelled back, jogging now.

"Oh please! He's interested, you moron. Go talk to him; I bet he's strutting like a rooster, waiting for you to return," Aria challenged.

"Hawke—just shut up," Aveline snarled.

They were silent the rest of the way back to the barracks; the men of the party wisely keeping their opinions to themselves. Anders and Varric couldn't look at each other without erupting in quickly stifled fits of laughter. Most of the guardsmen were sleeping if they weren't on patrol at this hour. It was late, and Aria was weary of dealing with Aveline's problems. She had relationship issues of her own and she wanted to deal with those, not play matchmaker for sissy Guard-Captains.

Donnic was nowhere in sight as Aveline unlocked her office door. She paced back and forth before it, glaring at each of them in turn.

"Maker, where is Donnic? I have to…head this off before it goes to the Viscount," Aveline lamented as she paced. "Maybe a formal apology? Something that shows the guards they can still trust me."

"You're their Captain and you're human. No one's going to blame you for wanting to have something other than fighting battles in your life," Aria wearily answered the red-head's meanderings.

"Not if it interferes with my role as their leader," Aveline countered.

"You're…Ugh. Aveline, they'll understand," Aria said, throwing her arms up in the air in exasperation.

"I won't be that stupid again," Aveline snarled, stepping up to Hawke in challenge.

Aria stood her ground, but before she could say or do anything, they were interrupted by someone clearing their throat. The two almost-fighting women turned to see Donnic had arrived.

"My apologies, Serah Hawke, but I need a moment with the Captain," Donnic cordially announced.

"Guardsman…Donnic…" Aveline said, awestruck.

Donnic smiled at her and inclined his head toward her office. "Please?"

Aveline looked to Hawke, who enthusiastically waved her away. Aveline's face lit up and she ushered Donnic into her office. Anders and Varric pressed their ears to the closed door. Fenris stood a few paces away, arms folded over his chest, his eyes fixed on Aria. She offered him a slight smile and took a couple steps closer to the door so she could listen.

After a few moments, Aveline's laughter could be heard. They waited until Donnic emerged. He winked at Hawke in passing, and when one of the other guardsmen returning from patrol passed by, he greeted them with uncharacteristic cheer. Aria and her companions slipped into Aveline's office and closed the door.

"Well?" Aria pressed, leaning against the bookcase next to Aveline's desk, her arms folded over her chest.

"Guardsman Donnic…did not file a complaint," Aveline dreamily stated. She straightened then and turned to look at Hawke, her expression earnest. "This was all incredibly stupid. And you made it wonderful."

"Yeah well, that's what I do. Jill of all trades. But, I think all credit for both the stupidity of the situation and its wonderful outcome can be laid at your feet," Aria replied.

"I knew asking you was the right thing," Aveline merrily said.

"Let's…not make a habit of it," Aria laughed, moving away from the bookcase to stand at her full height once more.

"I just… There's no way I can ever repay you. Perhaps it's simple. Thank you," Aveline gushed, as much of a gush as the disciplinarian Captain could allow. "Hey, can I ask you something? Was there a moment when you thought I was beyond help?"

Varric, Anders, and Fenris all laughed at this, and Aria barely refrained from joining them. "Maybe, we'll just leave that one unanswered," she hedged, winking at Aveline.

"Fair enough," Aveline chuckled. "Shout when you need me, Hawke. I'll always be here for you," she said, then as an aside, she added, "Just…knock first."

"No problem there," Aria laughed and she accepted the hug the Guard-Captain bestowed upon her.

Varric and Anders left the office first, headed back to the Hanged Man for drinks and hilarity. Varric was going to go absolutely nuts with this story. Fenris offered Aria his arm as they left the barracks, and they walked in that fashion silently until they were outside in the courtyard.


	31. Chapter THIRTY

_**A/N: **Song lyrics contained herein belong to the rock gods, Metallica. If you haven't heard the song, youtube Unforgiven II and enjoy._

**Chapter 30**

"What happened last night at the Hanged Man?" Aria asked as soon as they cleared the Keep and were meandering through the streets of Hightown. It was a warm evening despite the late hour, and the wind bore the sweet, earthy, heavy scent of rain on the way. Aria wanted a good thunderstorm. She loved them.

"Wicked Grace, why?" Fenris rasped, suspicion lacing his tone.

"Somehow, I don't believe that's merely _all_ that happened," Aria chided.

"What happens at the Hanged Man, stays at the Hanged Man," Fenris employed one of Varric's favorite dodging phrases.

"You and Anders weren't at each others' throats. Did you kiss him and make up?"

"_Venhedis!_" Fenris spat, a curse in Tevinter, Aria was sure.

"Yes well, what happens at the Hanged Man, stays at the Hanged Man," Aria quipped. "Where are we going?" Fenris's mansion was in view now and he had led her there.

"I am going home. You are welcome to accompany me," he cordially growled, exerting less pressure on her arm where it rested in the crook of his.

"I can hardly say no now, can I?" Aria theatrically groused.

"I had hoped we could... Talk about some things." He opened the door for her and she stepped inside, just as the first droplets of rain began to fall.

"That's a first," Aria replied.

"I...beg your pardon?" Fenris challenged.

"You. Wanting to talk about some things."

Fenris hung his head as he said, "We have much to discuss. Come, I'll get a bottle of wine from the cellar. You make yourself comfortable and I'll return shortly." He took her cloak and her dagger belt and hung them next to his weapons on the rack near the door, then disappeared to fetch the wine.

Aria sighed and made her way up to the second floor to his study, where he usually entertained guests. She walked out onto the terrace and watched the rain fall. She breathed in deeply, savoring the sweet scent of the chantry gardens that wafted to her on the humid breeze, blended with the earthen notes of wet dirt and stone. She was dreading what he had to say, but at the same time, she was relieved. One way or another, things would change. She was glad to get it over with.

Her knee bumped a low table as she turned to walk back inside and she saw two jars of ink, a few quills, and three leatherbound books on it. She sat down in one of the chairs that flanked the table and flipped open the books, the third of which turned out to be Fenris's journal. She studied his beautiful, scrawling penmanship, which even as a novice, was far better than most nobles' chicken scratches.

She smiled at this, the schooner-sized hole in her heart shrinking slightly. He'd taken Varric's advice and was penning his own thoughts. Aria was oddly proud of the elf for this; he was much more intelligent than anyone gave him credit for. He was a rabid learner, and he took to education like a fish to water.

Aria snapped the journal closed when she heard the soft scuff of his feet on the stairs. She turned in the chair to look back out at the rain once more. She hadn't read anything in the journal, but Aria feared he would never believe her if he caught her looking at it. It wasn't a chance she wanted to take, not when their...relationship or whatever it was, was hanging in the balance. She felt the scales were tipping toward the better, and it wasn't something she willingly sabotage.

"I never liked the rain, until I came here," Fenris said as he joined her. He dragged another chair over and sat next to her, the chair angled so that he could both look at her, and at the falling rain.

"Why is that?" Aria queried, accepting the freshly uncorked bottle he handed her. She took a draw from it and smiled, closing her eyes. It was a fine vintage, sweet and heady, just how she enjoyed her wine. She handed it back to him and watched him drink from it.

"Sometimes, you just have to change perspective," he bitterly hedged, his eyes dark with an emotion she couldn't quite place. Sorrow interspersed with hate and regret.

"That's...very wise. I love the rain. It reveals the truth about things, washes away the masks so you can see what's underneath," Aria agreed.

"Or, perhaps, it makes me think of you, and those thoughts were once happy," Fenris added sadly, handing her the bottle.

She met his gaze and couldn't find any words. He looked as terrible as she felt. Everyone had been right all along, he had just been better at hiding it. They were both miserable. They both hated how things had transpired. But at least, maybe now, things could change for the better.

"I'd like them to be happy again," she managed on a whisper, casting her gaze back to the rain. She took a drink and handed the bottle back to him.

He set it on the table and stood, his fingers lacing together as he drew his arms up, resting his palms on the back of his head as he paced for a moment.

"I must...I must first apologize," he said at length. Aria took a drink. "I must apologize for what I did to you in the Fade. I cannot begin to convey how...deeply sorry I am."

Aria sighed and took another drink, fighting the tears that stung her eyes.

"I don't think I deserve your forgiveness," he rasped, his hands going to the terrace's stone railing, his back to her. "But I am...selfish enough to ask for it all the same."

Aria stood and walked behind him. He did not turn, his head hung low, and he tightened his grip on the railing. She slid her arms around his waist and rested her cheek on his shoulder. He drew a deep breath, then exhaled it on a shuddering sigh. He smoothed one hand over her arms encircling his waist, the other still rested on the rail for balance.

"It isn't my forgiveness you need," Aria whispered, her lips against the skin on the back of his neck. She felt him tremble slightly and his breathing hitched. "But, if it helps, I forgive you."

He turned in her embrace then and sank to his knees, his face pressed against her abdomen, his fingers curled into the soft fabric of the coverlet she wore over her armour. Aria didn't fight the flow of tears that brimmed her eyes and she ran her fingers lovingly through the reckless silver hair that adorned his noble head.

"I hate myself for betraying you in the Fade. I hate that _**I**_ took a demon's offer over defending you," he ground the words out between gritted teeth, his breath coming in hisses. He drew his face away from her body to look up into her eyes. Aria tenderly cupped his chin. "I hate that I left you, but I feel I don't deserve you, more now than ever."

"I'm no saint, Fenris. I forgive you, and I don't care about what you did, or who your master was, or...or...what happened in a bloody dream!" Aria feverishly replied, sinking to her knees so she could be eye level with him. She took him gently by the shoulders and looked deeply into his eyes, her forehead rested against his, and the tips of their noses touched. "I...need you, Fenris."

"I need you, too," he hoarsely whispered as he caressed her cheek with the back of his hand.

"And you need to forgive yourself," Aria added tenderly, her hand catching his and their fingers curled together.

"I must tell you something. Something I haven't told anyone. Something none of the others must ever know. I need to swear you to silence, but I need you to know," Fenris said then, his eyes bright with fear and sorrow.

"Anything, Fenris. Anything. I'd do...anything for you," Aria feverishly replied.

He stood then, his momentum took her with him, and they went inside after Aria snatched the bottle from the table. Fenris closed the terrace doors and locked them, then offered her his hand. She took it without hesitation and he led her out of the study, across the balcony, to his chambers.

It was something he'd never done, a part of his house she'd never been in since they'd cleared Danarius's pets out of it some three years ago now. Fenris opened the door for her and closed it immediately after they entered. It was dark inside, but a flash of lightning briefly illuminated the room for her.

An enormous canopy bed rested at the far end, its dark curtain pulled up in one corner over the head of the bed nearest to them. The doors to the balcony were closed, the rain pattered a sweet, soft lullaby against them. Fenris struck a match and lit the torches in the sconces throughout the room, then the one on the nightstand.

While the rest of his mansion, save the study, was in disrepair, this room was immaculate. The red marble floor glistened and rivulets of pearl ran through the odd red stone. Fine red and black linens adorned the canopy and bed. Several books rested on the ebony desk and nightstand. At the center of the desk, though, was a pot of scarlet paint, a few clean brushes laid next to it, and at the heart of the workspace, there was a flask. Upon the flask was a painstakingly hand painted perfect redesign of Aria's tattoo.

This drew her. She picked up the silver flask and studied the design. It was the same flask he'd handed to her that first night he'd accompanied her in the wilderness. She smiled at the memory.

"I...hope that doesn't bother you," he softly said from behind her. Fenris stood next to the bed, his fingers worked to unlace the leather bindings that held his notoriously spiky shoulder armour.

"I love it," Aria breathed, gently returning the flask to the desk. She turned to look around the rest of the room.

Everything was clean, immaculate, even. The walls were white, the ornately carved baseboards and molding painted the same red as the floor. On the nightstand on the opposite side of the bed from where Fenris now stood was a vase full of beautiful white and purple flowers, the same ones that had been delivered to Gamlen's hovel so very long ago, it seemed. Aria's heart melted at this and she strode over to smell them.

When she turned to take in the rest of the room, she saw him watching her, the same heat in his eyes that had been present the night he'd slain Hadriana and waited for Aria at her own mansion. He'd removed all of his battle implements, save the chest piece that laced over his shoulders and down his back. Aria slowly walked over to him and took up the task of removing it. He stood silently while she worked, his eyes darted restlessly over her every movement.

Aria found herself humming a sweet, low melody, and then the words came as she picked at the lacing on the back that held his chest piece in place.

_Lay beside me, tell me what they've done  
Speak the words I want to hear  
To make my demons run  
The door is locked now  
But it's open if you're true  
If you can understand the me, then I can understand the you  
Lay beside me, under wicked sky  
Through black of day, dark of night  
We share this, paralyzed  
The door cracks open, but there's no sun shining through  
Black heart scarring darker still  
But there's no sun shining through  
What I've felt, what I've known  
Turn the pages, turn the stone  
Behind the door, should I open it for you?  
What I've felt, what I've known  
Sick and tired I stand alone  
Could you be there?  
I'm the one who waits for you  
Or are you unforgiven too?_

She stopped singing then, a tear sliding down her cheek. His hand covered hers, the laces undone on his armour. He helped her lift it over his head, then he let it fall to the floor. Their eyes locked, and they both held their breath.

"Fenris..." Aria whispered, her palm tenderly rested on the curve of his jaw.

"I must confess first," he huskily stated, his own fingers plucked at the lacing of her armour.

She helped him unbind her, until she wore nothing but the soft black suede breeches and black camisole of her underarmour. He scooped her up into his arms and gently placed her at the center of the bed. He drew the canopy closed around them, then lay on his side facing her.

"When I... Made love to you that night, something happened," he haltingly stated, his voice hoarse. "I remembered everything. I remembered..."

Aria was silent, though she scooted closer. She threw one leg possessively over his hip, heartened when he smoothed his hand to rest in the hollow of her bent knee, holding it there. His head rested on the pillow next to hers, their faces inches apart.

"I competed for this," he whispered, his eyes downcast.

"For what?" Aria gently pressed.

"These markings. To be Danarius's body guard."

"So you...wanted them?"

"No!" he said, more harshly than he had intended. He released her leg to rub at his forehead. "Yes. I did but... I did it to secure freedom for my family. But that wasn't...that wasn't the only reason."

Aria took his hand in hers and rested their entwined fingers against her chest. "Anyone who loved their family would do the same."

"No, Aria. You don't understand. Just...listen. Please," he entreated, shifting so that he was even closer to her. He released her hand so that he could fidget with the long braid of silver hair that hung over her shoulder.

"I'm listening," she whispered in reply, watching his eyes through the fringe of his hair.

He squeezed his eyes closed for a moment, as if the thoughts in his head physically pained him. "I was a boy on the cusp of becoming a man. I hated the power of the magisters, but more than that—I wanted it. I wanted to be as invincible as they. I wanted to be feared, respected, the mere utterance of my name to send sheer terror straight into the hearts of anyone who sought to challenge me."

"You wanted to be equal," Aria quietly summarized, remembering the line in her own journal.

"Yes... But at a terrible cost."

"There is nothing wrong with that," she tenderly stated, swiping his bangs from his face so she could see his eyes.

"I killed for it. I hungered for it. That...demon in the fade, he saw it. He pounced on the opportunity to twist whatever noble intent I had..."

"Fenris, that's what demons do. It wasn't you. It was just a dream."

"I turned on the one thing in this world that I cannot live without. What does that say of me? Anders didn't turn on you," Fenris shamefully spat.

"Varric did, and he's a dwarf. He's supposed to be immune to that sort of thing," Aria countered. "And Anders is already an abomination. The demon had no leverage because Anders is already possessed."

"You strike...an interesting argument. I hadn't thought of it that way," Fenris conceded.

"My father was a mage. My sister is a mage. Magic is something I've been around my whole life," Aria said.

"Our experiences have been...polar opposites," he rasped, his hand catching hers once more. He rested her palm against his chest, and she could feel the strong, slow, steady thud of his heart.

"At least...at least your sister isn't a slave. She's alive, and she's free. She owes that to you," Aria softly stated and her eyes squeezed closed. "You didn't...fail."

Fenris pushed her onto her back, his body covered hers. He looked down into her eyes, gently pinning her arms on either side of her head. "You did not fail."

"Yes, I did. I failed to protect Carver. I failed to protect Bethany. I have only succeeded in saving my Mother, and sometimes, I feel she still blames me for them."

"I need to learn to forgive myself, so you said. But, so must you," he rasped as his hand released one of hers, then slid down her neck, over her collarbone, fingers splayed between her breasts. The heat in his now heavy-lidded eyes intoxicating.

"I'm working on it," Aria replied, dizzy from his proximity, from his touch.

"And so will I," Fenris huskily stated, lowering his lips to hers.

What started out as a soft, sweet exchange soon erupted into a raging inferno. Aria equaled his passionate onslaught, completely lost in the solace his body offered. His heat branded her, blazed away all of the worry, the fear, the hate, the helplessness that dogged her every moment of every day. He made her demons run. She savagely hoped that she did the same for him.

She absorbed every detail of him. How his battle-roughened hands gently commanded her body's response. How his lips claimed hers with unbridled, unforgiving ardor. How the brands of his skin glowed and pulsed in response to her touch. How complete she felt when he at last possessed her. And when they both climaxed, beautifully, violently, she treasured the exquisite bliss expressed on his countenance.

They laid beneath the covers, their naked bodies tangled. Outside, the storm raged. But here, it could not touch them. The torches burned themselves out and the lamp's flame burned extremely low. Fenris traced lazy, swirling patterns down her arms, her chest, across her back. She couldn't have moved if she wanted to, unless some imminent threat to him existed.

"Say something," he whispered, once the lamp finally extinguished itself and plunged the room into total darkness that only grew illuminated by the violent flashes of lightning outside.

"Mmm... What do you want me to say?" Aria drawled, arching her back against him the way a cat does when pet.

"Anything. I just want to hear your voice," Fenris huskily replied as his lips grazed her shoulder.

"This time...was it...better?" she haltingly queried. A soft sigh came from her lips when his teeth tugged at her ear lobe.

He chuckled, that deep rasping sound only she had ever heard. "If I'm not careful, the Maker may decide to make you his new Andraste, and I would be forced to hunt him for all eternity for it."

Aria laughed at this, a merry, tinkling sound of silver bells and sunshine. Fenris lived to hear her laugh that way, the way she did just for him. He held her, this crazy, wild, deadly, sweet woman, and he wanted to be the only one to ever hold her like this. She was his. He was hers. She was the last master he would ever answer to, and she saw him as equal. Everything about her was priceless to him.

"He'd have to enslave me to do it. I would not go willingly," Aria murmured, turning in his embrace. She showered his face with kisses and caught up his hands in hers.

"Stay with me tonight," he said then, and they both jumped when lightning struck outside.

"I have no intention of going out in _that_," Aria giggled, turning her head to look out the windows.

Fenris kissed the sinew that stood out on her throat at the motion, then drew her to lie beneath him. "If it wasn't raining?"

"I've no intention of going anywhere. I've all I need right here," she headily whispered and reached up to touch his face.

"Would it be too terrible of me to suggest a...round two?" he suggested then, an impish grin playing on his lips when the lightning flashed again.

Aria used her body to roll him onto his back, her hips straddled his, her hands had his pinned above his head. "I don't know... Would it be too terrible of me to demand round three when round two is over?"

Fenris chuckled deeply in his throat. "Is that how this is supposed to work?"

"Ask me if I care," Aria snarled, taking her turn in being the aggressor. She claimed his mouth with hers and he responded with equal urgency.


	32. Chapter THIRTY-ONE

**Author's Note: **_Our hero is about to get her world rocked. You might…need tissues. If you haven't followed the game at all, serious spoilers lay ahead. If you have followed the game to the end of Act II… That part where you bawled your eyes out is coming._

**Chapter 31**

It was hot out. Way too bloody hot. Aria decided she hated the Wounded Coast. Weren't coastlines supposed to be mild in climate? They were in Ferelden. Apparently nearly everything about Kirkwall was designed to incessantly invoke misery.

The day had been a useless trek into hard terrain under a cruel, unrelenting sun. She just had to find that damned flower for her Formari herbalist friend in the Gallows. He'd been smuggling letters and money to Bethany for Aria, and from Bethany, Aria got her prized soaps and lotions. She'd tried some of the things the other craftswomen in both Lowtown and Hightown had offered, but they just weren't as good. Bethany was an artist.

"How can you stand wearing all that armour in this heat?" Merrill asked Fenris.

Aria had brought Anders and Merrill for their arcane knowledge of the different herbs. Apparently this flower was extremely rare and it was hard to discern from other similarly appearing plants. She'd needed the trained eyes of the mages. She almost never went anywhere without Fenris.

"It's hotter where I come from," Fenris resignedly answered her.

"Do you like it then?"

"No."

"Do you like anything? Besides Hawke, obviously," Merrill snarkily goaded him.

"I like quiet," Fenris growled.

Behind them, Anders chuckled. Aria couldn't help the giggle that rose in her own throat. The sound literally perked Fenris's ears and the corner of his mouth tentatively tugged upward the slightest bit. He put his arm around her shoulders and briefly touched his lips to the top of her head before he released her again and went back to scouting ahead of the group.

"I don't understand," Merrill said, shaking her head once Fenris had disappeared from view over the next knoll.

"What?" Aria asked. She looked back at Anders, who was smiling and shaking his head.

"He's so... Mean. And he has the emotional capability of a Golem," Merrill said. "I just wish he'd be nice for once."

Aria sighed. "Merrill, that's like asking a miner to get ore using nothing but a hammer. All you're going to do is break your hammer. Or your hand. Take your pick."

"You help mages. Your sister is a mage. Your father was a mage. Your best friends are mages. He _hates_ magic. Hates it! To his very bones! And yet... He loves you," Merrill groused.

Anders chuckled at this. "He just likes women who can kick his ass. With or without their clothes on."

Aria threw a pebble at him for that remark, but the blushing smile on her face told them she wasn't going to comment on the subject, neither to negate nor prove it. They crested the hill and Aria groaned at the sight before them.

Miles of hot, dusty trail that went up and down and to and fro haphazardly. She could see the heat of the earth distorting the air around it in shimmering waves. Kirkwall rose a few miles in the distance, its white and black spires undulating on the horizon. She looked to her right, where the cliff edge gave way to the sky, and twenty feet or so below that, waves of cool, beautiful water crashed against the rock. White spray lifted high enough to gently spatter her face.

"Don't even think about it," Anders softly said by her ear. "At least, not at this juncture."

Aria swatted him on the chest. "I'm not daft."

"What?" Merrill asked, joining them. She looked down at the water as longingly as Aria had. "Ooooh, but a nice dip would really lift our spirits. Not here though."

"Not here, though," Aria laughingly parroted.

They continued on for a couple of miles before they reached a softer slope to the water, and where the waves wouldn't drown them against the rocks. They all stripped down to their underarmour and waded out into the small cove. The water wasn't as cool as Aria had hoped, but it was better than the cloying, stifling heat of the road.

Once they were refreshed, they continued back to Kirkwall, reaching the gate by early afternoon. Aria had an audience with the Viscount to attend that evening. Rumour had it his son had gone to the Qunari compound to commit himself to their one-track way of thinking. Aria had "rescued" Seamus from them once before, and had urged the young man to speak his mind to his father. Ascribing to her own sense of individualism and freedom of thought often made her into somewhat of a political headache. Secretly, she enjoyed being an agent of chaos.

This time however, was different. Sister—Mother—Petrice, a revered follower of the Chantry, had once employed Aria and charged her with the task of smuggling a Qunari Sarebas, their shackled version of mages, out of Kirkwall. The task had been a set-up. Petrice hadn't counted on Aria's survival. Now, rumors of the Chantry's involvement in provoking war with the unwelcome foreigners had grown to incidences.

Last week, Aria led Varric, Anders, and Fenris into a Darktown meeting where Petrice's former body guard was holding a rally. At the Viscount's behest, Aria sought to locate delegates from the Arishok who had gone missing straight from the Keep. Petrice's body guard, Ser Varnell, had abducted them and murdered them before Aria could stop him. Varnell paid for his crimes, but still Petrice eluded her.

She didn't want to deal with it, but eventually something was going to break. Aria's money was on the Viscount, with his severe lack of backbone. The Arishok would crush him, for sure. And this rumour of the son going to the Qunari was foreboding. If Aria hadn't known better, she'd have thought the Arishok had this pawnsplay planned out well in advance.

"Do you wish me to join you this evening?" Fenris asked as he prepared to leave her at her doorstep.

"Yes," Aria instantly replied, tucking a particularly long stray lock of his reckless hair behind his head.

"I'll...make myself presentable then," he wryly chuckled as he caught her hand and grazed his lips across her knuckles.

"Meet me here in a couple hours," she said with a girlish smile.

"That long?"

"You can come whenever you like. I will not be meeting the Viscount for another couple of hours," Aria stated, wrapping her arms around his neck. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him lingeringly on the lips.

"I'll be right back," Fenris murmured when she pulled away, nudging the tip of her nose with his before he darted off in the direction of his mansion.

Aria watched him go, then saw several nobles in the square had turned to witness the display. A few ladies covered their mouths theatrically with their hands. The elderly ladies clicked their tongues and shook their heads with disapproval. One man near her spat at the ground, cursing the bloody knife-ears.

"Haven't you got your own lives to live?" Aria yelled at them, her glare a challenge to anyone who didn't immediately mind their own damn business.

She slammed the door as she went inside, muttering to herself.

"Blue-blooded, self-righteous, hypocritical, nonsensical, dull-witted, loose-lipped, conniving..."

"It's good to see you too," Gamlen's voice greeted her ears when she tromped into the study.

"Ugh!" Aria huffed, slumping down into the chair by the hearth. "Put this fire out! For the love of the Maker it's a thousand degrees in here!" She started stripping off her armour. "Hello Uncle. To what do I owe the...pleasure?"

"I was supposed to have lunch with Leandra today, but she never showed. Do you know where she is?" Gamlen asked. The true note of worry sent a cool wave of dread down her spine.

"No, uncle. I'm sorry. I've been out..." she grunted and tugged off a boot, which she promptly whipped across the room, "all day and have a dinner to attend with the Viscount. In a little while."

"Blast! Probably went off with that suitor, then," Gamlen grumbled.

"Suitor?" Aria asked, incredulous. "What suitor?"

"Mistress, Lady Leandra received those white lilies," Bodahn informed her. "With as socially active as the Lady is, I figured she'd garnered some attention at last.

"Wait, what? Mother never told me about a man," Aria grumpily murmured as she fought with the other boot. She stopped suddenly and sat bolt upright. "White lilies?"

"Yes-" Bodahn started to say, but Hawke ran and retrieved the boot and tugged it back on. She hastily re-donned every battle implement and went over to her weapon rack. She yanked out the two new daggers she'd just bought a few days ago and tossed one to Sandal. "Striking, Fire on that one, Devastation and Nature on the other. Bodahn, get Fenris. Now. Tell him it's urgent," Aria barked.

"You were just kissing the face off that elf but ten seconds ago—he probably hasn't even made it home yet," Gamlen sniggered.

"Shut up, or so help me I'll gut you. Now is not the time," Hawke venomously snarled. She turned to Orana, her tone sweet and sincere as she said, "Be a dear and run to get Aveline, the Guard-Captain. Tell her to send a message to the Viscount—I've an emergency to tend to, then tell her to send for Varric, and to meet me here as quickly as possible."

"Yes Mistress," Orana promptly replied, fleetly running for the door, Bodahn hot on her heels.

"Aria, what is going on?" Gamlen asked, his voice shaken. He sat down in the chair she vacated while she paced in front of the still-lit hearth.

"I need...I need... Anders! Shit, I forgot to have her send for Anders!" Aria bolted for the cellar, where she knew the tunnels in the sewers would take her straight to Darktown, just outside the clinic. Gamlen followed her as quickly as he could and she was forced to slow down for him.

"Andraste's ass, Aria! What's wrong?" Gamlen hollered as they surfaced by the clinic.

"Mother. He's got Mother," Aria spat, then ran for the clinic.

Anders greeted her at the door, staff in hand. "Maker! What is all the—Aria?"

"Come with me. Now!" Aria said, sliding to a halt in front of him, only to jet back towards the sewers.

Anders bolted after her, glaring at Gamlen as he ran past. They didn't wait for him. They ran all the way back to the mansion, emerging from the cellar just as Fenris and Aveline came in.

"Where's Varric?" Aria asked, her limbs starting to tremble. Adrenaline-fueled anxiety thrummed through her veins. She gracelessly sat down in the chair, nearly sending it over backwards.

"Donnic is getting him now. Hawke, what happened?" Aveline replied.

"Remember that serial killer? The one we thought was Gascard duPuis?" Aria said. Her voice shook.

"Yes, you killed him. I remember," Aveline answered, her eyes wide in alarm. "What happened?"

"Didn't the killer send white lilies to all his intended victims?" Aria asked, then pointed to the vase on the table across the room.

Aveline's face drained of colour. Anders clapped a hand over his mouth. Fenris strode over to Aria and knelt next to her.

"We'll find her," he vowed.

"Yes, we will," Aveline agreed from next to him.

Anders went over to the flowers and started inspecting them. They were not native to Kirkwall, he surmised. They grew only in the Frostback Mountains, in Ferelden. He'd seen them before, once, while traveling the Deep Roads and running from the Templars.

"These are...very hard to come by," Anders mused.

"They're Frost Lilies," Aveline said, helping Hawke to her feet.

"You've seen them before?" Anders asked her, touching the petal of one.

"They're nearly every woman in Ferelden's favourite," Aria grimaced.

"But not yours," Fenris replied as he gently took Aria's shoulders. "We will find her."

Aria nodded, then abruptly turned as the front door flew open. Donnic and Varric trotted in, their expressions full of worry.

"What's happened?" Varric breathlessly asked as he stopped in front of Hawke. He doubled over, heavily winded from the run he and Donnic made.

"Leandra's missing. She was said to have had a suitor, who sent her white lilies this afternoon," Anders filled them in.

Varric straightened and he leveled his gaze on Anders. "Blondie, did you just say white lilies?"

Anders solemnly nodded.

"We've got to hurry," Varric pressed then, looking to Hawke. His eyes softened. "We'll find her, Hawke. But we aren't going to accomplish anything by just standing around here."

Aria jerked her chin up defiantly and went over to the work desk where Sandal was just putting the finishing touches on the runes in her new daggers. She took them and whirled them around in complex kata. They possessed superb balance and felt lighter, but more lethal than her last set. She sheathed them on her back and strode to the front door.

"Fenris, Anders, Varric, on me. Aveline, I want you and Donnic to start canvasing the neighbourhood, see if you can't find someone who knows anything," Aria barked as her fingers plucked at the bracers she wore around her forearms, tightening the laces down again.

"Right away, Hawke. I'll dispatch two patrols, have them start searching Darktown and Lowtown," Aveline replied with celerity. She and Donnic ran out the door back towards the barracks to raise the alarm.

"DuPuis had leads to a foundry in Lowtown," Varric said as they left Hawke's estate and headed for Lowtown.

"That narrows our search down to about ten buildings," Aria snorted, keeping her pace to a brisk jog so that the dwarf could keep up.

"That's better than anywhere in Kirkwall," Varric retorted.

"I know, I'm…sorry. I just have to find her before we're too late," Aria recanted.

They ran down the steps into Lowtown and saw Gamlen quarreling with a street urchin near Lady Elegant's potion stand.

"Wait, wait!" Gamlen pleaded. "You said you saw her?"

"I told you!" the dirt-covered little boy yelled back. "I told you already! I saw her!"

"Did you see where she went?" Gamlen prodded.

The boy looked at the four new arrivals with growing suspicion. His eyes narrowed momentarily at Hawke before he turned to glare back expectantly at Gamlen. "What do I get for telling you?"

Aria tossed the kid a coin purse. "Silver. Get yourself some food and new shoes," she distractedly stated.

The boy caught the purse and hastily counted the silvers, his eyes going wide. "Oh! That's real silver that is! I'm your man, through and through! Tell you everything I know!" he gushed.

"Well?" Aria demanded.

"That lady was here. She looked like she was going to take the bridge to Hightown. But then, a man came up to her. He stumbled and fell over right at her feet, like he was dead. His hands were all bloody, like he'd been in a fight," the urchin relayed quickly. "The Lady shook him, and I think he said, 'help!'. She got him to his feet, and he was wobbly. Uh…It…it was funny. Anyway, they left. Th-that's all I saw."

Aria turned to Gamlen. "Mother always has to find some way to help," she rued. "We might not be too late!"

"Why would anyone take her?" Gamlen asked, his voice choked. Aria found herself shocked by the sincerity he exhibited in worrying for her mother. "It doesn't make sense!"

"The man left some blood," the urchin said then, pointing to a dark stain on the cobblestones about thirty feet away. "That's where he fell over. You could follow him."

"Do as the boy says," Gamlen needlessly ordered. "I'm going to go home in case Leandra shows up."

Aria didn't wait. She dashed over to the blood, her eyes darted over the area, looking for a second stain. She found it but a breath later and started tracking, the pools getting smaller and smaller as she went on. Fenris, Anders, and Varric followed closely, their own eyes peeled for signs.

Eventually, the trail led them to the Lowtown Foundry she recalled from a couple years ago. Dread and fear rocketed down her spine and she sprinted up the steps to the building. She didn't bother picking the lock; her rage grew enough that she could have split an ogre in half with her bare hands. She crashed through the door and scanned for more blood. She finally found it on the stairs leading to the second floor of the foundry, then tracked it to a trap door.

"This wasn't here last time," Aria worried aloud. She threw the door open and launched herself down into the hidden chambers. Her companions silently pursued, no one really knowing what to say, and all of them hoped for the same thing.

Fenris and Anders shared an extremely worried look. They both knew too well what a blow this would be to Aria, if they didn't find Leandra. Neither of them ever wished to see Hawke in that sort of pain. She'd been through enough.

"Spread out, start searching for her," Aria barked, much more harshly than she intended.

They did as she asked and started looking for clues. The blood trail was gone, and time rapidly ran away from them. To make matters worse, a rage demon and his flock of shades appeared. Aria screamed as she felled each one, hating them for running out the hour glass she raced against so desperately.

Once she and her companions defeated them, she continued searching. Aria's eyes landed on a table at the far end of the enormous underground hall and her heart leapt into her throat. A woman's form lay there on her side, her back to the group of them.

Aria raced over. "Mother! Mother!" she cried, turning the woman onto her back. Aria gasped in horror and her hand flew to cover her mouth. She had the same colour hair, the same skin tone, the same coloured eyes as mother, the same build, but her face was different. "Alessa!"

Alessa had been a captive of Gascard DuPuis, the blood mage Aria and everyone else thought had been the killer. Aria killed Gascard and freed Alessa. The bitter flavour of defeat stung Aria's tongue and brought bile into her throat. She'd been wrong. DuPuis's story had been true.

With a scream of rage, Aria slammed her fist down onto the table, then righted herself. She stormed further into the subterranean hideout, her malice and bloodlust growing. When she found this man, or woman, she was going to rip them to shreds. With her teeth and bare hands.

She found a few notes on the work tables scattered throughout the place, which reeked of death and decay. One of the notes talked about using quick lime to preserve her feet. Aria gagged after reading it, but continued on. Her toe nudged a small silver trinket in the earth, next to a pool of somewhat fresh blood. Aria bent and reverently picked it up.

"I know this locket," she whispered, opening it to see the familiar faces of her family in the pictures inside. She snapped it closed and squeezed it in her fist, her eyes going around the room. "She's here. That bastard has her."

The group descended the flight of stairs before them into what appeared to be a bed chamber. It also housed a shrine of some sort; pictures adorned the wall and there were book cases all around, filled with ancient tomes and scrolls. Aria didn't get to search it for but a few seconds before yet another rage demon and herd of shades attacked them.

Aria was in full rage mode. She whirled among them, disemboweling their twisted bodies, cleaving their disgusting heads, a whirlwind of carnage that ripped through their ranks. Finally, as she came upon the rage demon, weakened by Fenris's continued onslaught, Aria launched herself at him.

Her feet slammed into the demon's chest, sending both of them tumbling into a book case. The case fell backwards and Aria landed with her knees on its sinewy, putrid-smelling arms. She dropped the smaller of her daggers to the dirt and grasped the hilt of the larger one with both hands.

"Tell your master he's next!" she screamed, bringing the dagger down with such force between its eyes that its skull cracked violently into two pieces. The lava-like slime of its brain burst out and splattered her breastplate, black scars that would never reach her skin.

Aria twisted the dagger in the beast's skull, then wrenched it free. She stood and swiped her other dagger from the dirt and wiped it on the cloth that spilled from her waist in tatters, what used to be the fine coverlet she always wore. She turned to survey the sprawling map of madness that adorned the wall.

"What…is this?" she asked in horror, surveying the many pictures and scribbled, obsessive notes of the demented shrine. At the center of it all was a portrait of a beautiful woman who bore a striking resemblance to Leandra.

"That…that looks like Leandra," Fenris stated, his own horror evident.

"A shrine…dedicated to a wife? A sister?" Anders weighed in his own opinion.

"It doesn't matter. He's dead all the same," Aria spat as she whirled to continue through the vile creature's lair.

"This book… It's on necromancy," Anders said as they resumed searching for clues. He shuddered. "This is dangerous work."

Aria snatched up another scribbled note from a table at the far end of the chamber. It said something about a wedding anniversary, an apology on a failing promise, and then… The face he'd know when he at last saw it. Aria crumpled the note in her hand, her body trembling with fury.

She pushed through the door at the end of the hall and raced through, hearing voices coming from somewhere in the next room. She turned the corner and saw a man kneeling in front of a large reclining chair, in which a woman sat with her back to Aria. The man smiled and stood as Aria approached. Aria twirled her daggers in anticipation of the kill, her demeanor predatory.

"I was wondering when you'd show up," the man said, sauntering away from the reclined chair. "Leandra was so sure you'd come for her."

Aria crouched into her battle stance, her ochre eyes flashing with malice. "Where is she?" she venomously demanded.

The mage smiled wickedly, then tenderly looked over at the figure in the chair. "You will never understand my purpose," he snarled at Aria. "Your mother was chosen because she was special. And now, she is part of something…greater."

Aria snapped one of her daggers up, rearing to her full height, the blade aimed at the man's heart. "Release her. Now."

"She is here," the mage purred, his eyes shifting to the chair. "She is waiting for you. I have done the impossible. I have touched the face of the maker," he smugly continued, his eyes lifted upwards as though he transcended by merely uttering the words. "And lived! Do you know what the strongest force of the Universe is?"

Aria watched him turn and walk back to the chair, her feet deftly bringing her closer in silence. One clean blow. That's all she would need. A tiny window and she would sever his skull from his spinal cord.

"Love," he continued, his back to them. He touched the back of the chair and shifted it so the figure within sat forward. The movements were jerky, uncoordinated. "I pieced her back together from memory. I found her eyes, her skin, her delicate fingers, and…at last…her face." He rounded the chair and lifted the figure's chin up so he could look down upon the countenance. "Oh…this beautiful face!"

Aria scampered back a few steps when the figure rose, horror taking root in her. The portrait had been uncannily similar to her mother's. She begged whatever deities that may exist to spare her what she knew would come. She fought between denial and reality, knowing the outcome but refusing to accept it.

"Oh! To find you again, beloved!" the lunatic butcher reverently cried as the figure took a few clumsy steps. "And no force on this earth will part us!"

The figure turned and Aria's worst nightmare was realized. The abomination before her bore her mother's head, crudely sewn to the body of some other unlucky woman. Different eyes existed where Leandra's had been, but the face was the same. Aria took another step back, stumbling blindly, her grip on reality slipping.

The mage counted on this for a diversion, and he launched his attack. Fenris and Anders closed in front of her, taking on the army of demons and shades the mage summoned to his defense. Varric tugged Aria away from the fray, launching bolt after bolt from Bianca.

Aria couldn't look away from the woman that swayed in the background, her eyes never leaving Aria's. The woman fell to her knees behind a line of shades and something inside Aria snapped.

With a blood curdling scream of righteous fury, Aria bolted past Varric and launched into the battle. She was a terrifying sight to behold, sending gore flying at every angle, felling everything that stood in her way. She fought tirelessly, the creatures seemingly unable to get a read on her movements fast enough to quell the devastating onslaught she unleashed on them.

She didn't think. She just reacted. All the sorrow, hate, and fury galvanized her considerable combat ability and she tapped potential she hadn't known she possessed. She had to break before she could reach her full ability. She was devastated, but she wasn't going to take it lying down. She wrought merciless, savage, vengeance upon everything that disgusting excuse for a human being threw at her until at last she reached him.

He whirled, his staff missing her face by a hair's breadth, but it was all the window she needed. With one final scream of rage, Aria drove her blade through his navel and ripped it upward until it caught in the bone of his sternum. She savagely twisted the blade, lifting the mage's body in the process. She was covered in his blood as he looked helplessly down at her, his life force flowing out of him with every beat of his dying heart.

"You were right about one thing," Aria hissed, spitting in his face. She threw his dying body down and straddled his chest. "Love is the strongest force in the universe." She slammed her hand into the hole her dagger created and ruthlessly gripped his heart. His eyes grew wider and he watched her rip it from his body, then crush it under the merciless turn of her heel.

Aria whirled abruptly and whipped the throwing knife in her belt at the last undead creature that still stood. The keen little blade buried itself to the hilt in the creature's eye socket and it fell, revealing the fallen caricature of her mother behind it, struggling to stand.

"Mama!" Aria cried, racing to the woman before she collapsed again. She cradled her in her arms, sobbing openly as she rocked the woman back and forth.

"There's nothing I can do," Anders helplessly stated, his voice cracking. "His magic was keeping her alive."

"I knew you would come," Leandra weakly stated, her eyes riveted on Aria's. "I knew my Birdie would fly to me."

"I'm so sorry Mama. I'm so sorry," Aria sobbed, cradling the woman closer to her. "I failed. I failed you again."

"Shhh," Leandra whispered. "Don't fret, darling. That man would have kept me trapped in here. At least now, I am free. I can see Carver again, and your father. But you'll be all alone."

Aria kissed her forehead, her tears falling onto Leandra's face. She ran her fingers through her mother's hair. "I should have been there more often, I should have been with you…I should have…"

"My little Birdie has become the strongest woman I've ever known. I love you," Leandra whispered, her voice faltering. "You've always made me…so…proud…"

Leandra's body went limp and her eyes no longer saw. Aria rocked her back and forth, tears spilling from her eyes, her breath unable to enter or leave her chest. Anders, Fenris, and Varric looked on in stunned silence, for the moment rendered paralyzed by the severity of the situation.

Aria screamed, burying her face against the hair that had once belonged to her mother. She screamed and screamed until her voice gave out and all she could do was sob silently. She fought them when they lifted her away, fought them when someone else carried her mother.

They dragged her, kicking and sobbing from the foundry. Aveline met them in Lowtown and she sank to her knees when she saw Fenris and Varric struggling with the hysterically distraught Aria. Donnic ran over to take Leandra's body from Anders, whose own visage was mottled and covered with tears.

Merrill came running then, having been informed by one of the patrols that they were looking for Hawke's mother. When she saw Fenris struggling to hold Aria, she cast her sleep spell, and blessedly sent the rogue into a magically induced coma. Fenris nodded his thanks to her and cradled Aria in his arms. Merrill and Varric followed Fenris towards Hightown, a complement of guards in tow.

Isabela joined them, along with a few friends from the Hanged Man. She helped Aveline to her feet.

"I…have to tell Gamlen," Aveline stated, her body cold and numb. She couldn't believe this. She couldn't believe the madness and cruelty of this.

"Hasn't she suffered enough?" Isabela's voice hitched as she asked, a rare instance of compassion in her eyes as she watched Fenris carry Hawke up the steps to Hightown. Donnic followed, carrying what remained of the Hawke matriarch.

"Merrill had to put her down," Aveline quietly stated. "I…fear…I fear she's…broken."


	33. Chapter THIRTY-TWO

**Chapter 32**

"How bad is it?" Bodahn asked as he held the door for the entourage that waited outside. His eyes lit upon Hawke's sleeping countenance in Fenris's arms, then widened in horror as Donnic brought Leandra inside.

"Send for her grace at the Chantry," Donnic gently told Bodahn. "And do be discreet."

Bodahn nodded, bowed, and then raced out the door. A crowd had gathered outside, the nobles rubbernecking for the latest gossip on the Amell-Hawke family. Discretion was impossible, at this point. Anders closed to door, ignoring the cries of the people asking for information. He heard a couple voices say that the Hawke estate was probably going to be up for sale soon, that Leandra and Aria both were dead. He shook his head. The vultures. They knew nothing, and cared even less.

Donnic took Leandra's body up to her bed chambers and gently deposited her on the bed. Fenris took Aria to her own room and did the same. He pulled the chair from her desk over to sit next to her. His mind reeled. Just a few weeks ago, she'd confessed her failures to him. Her family was everything to her, and now they'd all been violently ripped away. Leandra's death was an especially cruel cut to Aria, he well knew. First her father, then her brother, then Bethany, and now her mother. The only comfort she could seek was in knowing that Bethany was alive, at least, surrounded by armoured men and powerful mages. He catalogued that as something he could say to comfort her when she woke. If she woke.

Merrill silently joined him, tears in her overly large, jewel-like eyes. "Poor, poor Hawke," she sobbed on a whisper, taking the rogue's hand in both of hers. "How could someone do this?"

"She slaughtered him for his troubles," Fenris venomously replied. "She…ripped his heart out in front of his own eyes."

"A trick she learned from you," Merrill almost fondly stated.

"No… It was a message. That…monster butchered all those women to piece them together in the…abomination he turned her mother into. He said he did it for love. Aria took his heart for it."

"How is what he did love?" Merrill asked, aghast.

"It isn't," Fenris snarled. "And she's paying the price for it."

Donnic entered the room then, with Aveline and Gamlen. Isabela and Varric followed, along with Bodahn, Orana, the Grand Cleric Elthina, and Anders. Fenris stood and bowed as the Grand Cleric silently strode up to the bed. Merrill backed away to give her full access to Hawke.

"This poor child," Elthina sadly stated, smoothing her hand over Aria's forehead. "She gives so much, takes so little, and still it isn't enough. The Maker must have a greater plan for her." She turned to face the group of Hawke's most devoted friends, a sad smile gracing her lips. "Take care of her, as she has taken care of you. The foreseeable future will be dark indeed for her."

Someone's voice called out from downstairs then, and they all turned to listen. Bodahn excused himself to tend to the new visitor. A moment later, Ser Cullen the Knight-Captain from the Circle and First Enchanter Orsino entered the room.

"Maker have mercy," Ser Cullen sadly stated. "Is it true? Is Mistress Hawke dead?"

"I'll take this," Aveline said to no one in particular, escorting them out to the landing.

"Bethany and her sister were so close," First Enchanter Orsino quietly said.

"Hawke's not dead," Aveline informed them. "We had to—sedate her."

Cullen and Orsino shared a confused look. "Why? Why is the Grand Cleric in there then?" Cullen asked.

"We sent for Grand Cleric Elthina because Hawke's mother, Leandra, was murdered. Remember that templar, Emeric?"

Cullen's eyes widened in shock. Emeric was murdered in Lowtown after he continually and relentlessly pursued the criminal. "No! He was right?"

"We thought we'd gotten the killer, but we were wrong," Aveline bitterly stated, feeling that this tragedy was not Hawke's doing, but her own. She had failed to listen. She had failed to act. Because of her grave error in judgment, Hawke was the one footing the bill for the aftermath of this crime. It made Aveline sick to her stomach.

"And now?" Orsino pressed.

"Hawke slew him for what he did to her mother. It's…bad. He was using blood magic and necromancy. He took Leandra's head and pieced it onto another body."

Orsino wrung his hands, a gesture Aveline noted with suspicion. She'd seen enough criminals in her lifetime to recognize a tell when it happened. Why would he feel guilty?

"So…Mistress Amell is…" Orsino haltingly said, looking over at the door to the matriach's bedroom.

"She was a victim of his heinous, unholy magic," Aveline told him.

"That's unforgivable. To the Void with him," Cullen spat. "Guard-Captain, if I may: Hawke has done the Order many services over the years. I will approach the Knight-Commander about releasing her sister to Hawke's custody for a few days, so that they may grieve together."

"That is very kind of you," Aveline replied, clapping her hand on his shoulder. "I know Hawke would appreciate that."

"I wouldn't expect Knight-Commander Meredith to honor that request," Orsino scoffed. "Especially since Viscount Dumar kept Hawke from swinging from a noose for harbouring an apostate."

"Knight-Commander Meredith is not without mercy," Cullen gently interjected. "She is well aware of the good Hawke has done for this city, and for the Order, personally. I will try my best. Mistress Bethany is all Hawke has left."

"Thank you, sers," Aveline said to both of them, bowing courteously. "I appreciate the effort, no matter the outcome, as I'm sure Aria will also."

They bowed and took their leave, escorted out by Bodahn. Anders joined Aveline on the landing. She couldn't bear to be in that room, seeing how broken Hawke was. It unnerved her. Everyone had this idea that Aria was invincible. This proved how fragile she really could be.

"That was kind of them," Anders stated.

"I don't expect anything to come of it, but it was a nice gesture," Aveline dubiously responded.

"Knight-Captain Cullen is a good man."

"I'm surprised to hear you say that."

Anders sighed. "I don't hate all templars. Just the ones who abuse their station. Cullen has been very objective and merciful when the situation called for it."

"I'll take your word for it; I hardly know the man except in passing," Aveline tersely replied.

Outside, the crowd that had gathered shouted questions at Cullen and Orsino as they departed. Aveline groaned and Donnic joined them.

"We'd better get that lot under control. A noble riot is exactly what the Viscount does _not_ need right now," Donnic gently told his Captain-girlfriend.

"Indeed," Aveline breathed. It was a relief to have something else to focus on. "Let's go have them disperse. Gently. There's been enough violence tonight."

Donnic inclined his head to Anders, then followed the Guard-Captain down the stairs. Bodahn let them out, then threw the heavy bar across the doors at Aveline's behest. Anders stared at the door to Leandra's bedroom, tears brimming in his eyes. Justice flared within him, also angered by the terrible turns this evening had taken.

"This is bad, Blondie," Varric's voice drew him back to the real world.

Anders sighed, his heart heavy. "Yes. Yes it is."

"I've never seen her fight like that. I half wonder if she wasn't possessed," Varric humourlessly chuckled.

"She was possessed, but not by a spirit other than her own," Anders replied. "I worry. She will not be the same ever again after this."

"Oh, I don't know about that. Aria's the toughest person I've ever known. It's going to take time, maybe a long time, but I don't think she'll give up," Varric countered.

"Her family meant everything to her," Anders stated, his voice shaky. "Everything she's done has been for them. She made a deal with Flemeth, the Witch of the Wilds, to get them here. She braved the Deep Roads to give her mother the life she deserved, only to lose her to a death she didn't deserve. The injustice of it…"

"I take it Justice isn't so opposed to having Hawke in your life now?" Varric softly said so no one could hear.

Anders shook his head. "Since the Fade, Justice is quite approving of having Aria around. And he's just as angry as I am at this."

Isabela joined them, with Merrill on her arm. Her normally cajoling aura was dampened considerably and her eyes were slightly red. Merrill was openly crying, her cheeks stained with tears.

"What are we going to do?" Merrill asked them all.

"There isn't really anything we _can_ do," Isabela darkly stated, her chameleon-esque eyes simultaneously furious and sad.

"All we can do is be here for her," Varric diplomatically stated, handing Merrill his kerchief. She dabbed at her eyes, offering him a sad smile in thanks.

"First Enchanter Orsino and Knight-Captain Cullen offered their condolences, and a courtesy," Anders informed them.

"Really? Now that _is_ interesting," Varric glibly catalogued that tidbit in his mind. "What did they say?"

"Knight-Captain Cullen promised Aveline that he would talk to the Knight-Commander about releasing Bethany to Aria's care for a few days, to grieve for Leandra," Anders relayed, almost verbatim.

"That's very sweet of them," Merrill sniffled, looking back at Hawke's closed door.

"I doubt it'll actually happen, but it's a kind offer all the same," Varric stated, mirroring everyone's thoughts with the remark.

"The Knight-Commander hates Hawke," Anders quietly said. "I have that on good authority."

"Yes, but she won't balk at the chance to be seen as something other than a heartless tyrant," Varric played the devil's advocate. "Or at least I hope she's that smart."

"That remains to be seen," Anders quipped. He looked around at all of them. "I think…perhaps we should go. Fenris is with her, and I doubt she'll want to see anyone else for a while."

Isabela nodded in agreement, and gently nudged Merrill towards the staircase. Varric and Anders followed.

"Drinks are on me at the Hanged Man tonight, if anyone else would care to drown today's misery away," Varric addressed them all as Bodahn opened the door. Merrill winced when the heavy bar clunked into place after the door closed behind them.

"I'll take you up on that," Anders said.

"Aye," Isabela agreed. "Same."

"I don't think there's enough drinks in Kirkwall to drown that," Merrill chimed sadly.

"Doesn't mean I'm against trying," Varric said. "C'mon. There's nothing more we can do here tonight."

The rising sun brought Fenris out of the uncomfortable sleep he'd managed to finally fall into. He cracked his neck, then turned to check on Aria. She hadn't moved since he'd repositioned her on her side before he fell asleep very, very early this morning. She looked, for the moment, at peace.

He'd ushered the Grand Cleric Elthina out after she delivered the funeral rites to Hawke's mother. Everyone else had gone, presumably to drown their sorrows, well before the Grand Cleric had entered Leandra's room with Gamlen. Elthina left with Gamlen, speaking of the possibility of having Bethany brought to the mansion the next day so she could grieve with her family, rather than in the Gallows alone. Fenris wondered now if the Grand Cleric would be able to deliver on that promise. He fervently hoped so.

Fenris stood then, and stretched his sore back. He was still covered with the gore of last evening's toils. His stomach rumbled, and he realized it had been nearly a day since he'd last eaten. He gently turned Aria onto her back. He'd removed her armour once everyone had left last night, and positioned her under her covers. Her face still bore the grime of battle, as did her hands. Fenris kissed her forehead, then left the room. He would bathe her later, he decided. Perhaps it would help wake her. Before Merrill departed with Isabela last night, she voiced her concern. The sleep spell she had done should have only kept Aria in that state for less than an hour. The rogue still hadn't woken up yet.

Orana was already in the kitchen preparing breakfast when he entered. She smiled sweetly at him but said nothing as she cracked a few eggs into a frying pan. Bodahn and Sandal entered shortly thereafter, Bodahn's eyes red and puffy. Fenris had to look away from him. He couldn't let sorrow overtake him.

"Did you sleep well, messere?" Orana asked the other elf, spearing a few sausages onto a plate. She placed some toast and scrambled eggs onto it, then handed it to Fenris.

"I slept," he grunted in reply, taking the plate. "Thank you." It felt strange to have someone else making breakfast for him. A servant, no less. It made him slightly uncomfortable.

"Thank you for staying with the mistress last night. She…is in a bad way," Orana continued, serving plates to Bodahn and Sandal, then lastly herself.

They sat at the table together and tucked in to their breakfast.

"Aria's mad. Enchantment didn't work," Sandal sadly stated, his overly-large blue eyes wide and teary.

"Oh no, my boy. Enchantment did work," Bodahn laid a reassuring hand on the young man's shoulder. "Bad men happened."

Sandal nodded mutely and said nothing more after that. Bodahn smiled sadly at Fenris. Orana's eyes shifted to the coals in the hearth.

"I'll take some water up for Mistress's bath. She'd enjoy that," the girl sweetly said.

"I'll help you. I was planning on bathing her myself," Fenris said, surprised by their shocked stares.

"I—I don't know if that's quite acceptable," Bodahn haltingly protested.

"Mistress Hawke is very modest," Orana gently chided.

"Mistress Hawke has spent half of the last month's worth of nights in _my_ arms. I'll take care of her," Fenris brusquely stated.

"Well there is that," Bodahn kindly agreed.

"I'm sorry if I offended, messere," Orana quietly said, her eyes downcast.

"Do not apologize; you did nothing wrong. You defended her and for that I am thankful," Fenris hurriedly stated, though the bite didn't altogether leave his tone. "But I will see to her needs in that respect for now."

"As you wish, messere," Orana responded with a gentle smile that fully reached her eyes.

Fenris, Bodahn, and Orana took water up the stairs to heat on the hearth in Aria's room when they finished breakfast. Aria still had not moved a single muscle when they entered. Bodahn's face was sad as he looked over her.

"Mistress Hawke, do please wake up soon," he quietly said to her, then left the room.

"Why did that man do this?" Orana asked no one in particular, her gem-like eyes full of sorrow. She left Hawke's side and went to her closet. "We'll probably have visitors. What do you think she'd like to wear?"

"I don't know. Just...do your best," Fenris distractedly replied, willing the fire in the hearth to heat the water faster. He was trying hard not to be curt with the other former slave. He knew the torments Hadriana used to inflict on those in her service.

The elven girl selected wisely. She brought out new undergarments that were black lace; something Hawke was fond of wearing under everything, even her armour. Orana then selected a pair of buff-colored breeches that looked as though they'd never been worn, and an emerald green peasant blouse that was off-the-shoulder and had a slightly fitted bodice that laced with white cord. Orana laid them on the bed, then turned back to where Fenris sat next to Hawke.

"Is there anything else you'd like me to help with?" she asked, her voice quavering with sadness.

"Yes. Send for Anders and Gamlen," Fenris replied. "If you would, please."

"Right away, messere," Orana said with a curtsy. She strode from the room and gently closed the door behind her.

As soon as she was gone, Fenris went over to where Aria still lay comatose. "Aria, I don't know if you can hear me, but I'm going to return home to fetch some things. I'll be back momentarily." He bent and kissed her forehead, then left the room.

"Is everything alright, messere?" Orana asked as Fenris met her at the door. They left the mansion together. Fenris noted with dismay that several people lingered about the Hawke estate. Aveline had the good sense to post two guardsmen at Hawke's door.

Fenris nodded to the guards, then turned to Orana. "I'm going home to fetch a change of clothes. I will return shortly. Get Anders first and have him accompany you to get Gamlen. Hopefully by the time you return, I'll have Aria awake."

Orana nodded in response and left him. He ran to his estate and grabbed a change of clothes, then hastened back to Hawke's estate. He hurriedly strode back up to Aria's room and locked the door behind him.

He took the kettles off the hearth and dumped them into the tub. The water wasn't as warm as he thought Aria would like, so he plunged his arms into the tub and flared his brands. A moment later, steam rolled off the water. He gathered Aria's bathing implements then set about the task of preparing her. He stripped himself, then collected her unconscious body in his arms.

Fenris lowered himself into the tub and positioned Aria so that he could wash her. He was quick about it, knowing how efficient of an errand-runner Orana was. He had just started rinsing the soap from her hair when she stirred, her hand covering his where it rested around her waist. Their fingers curled together and he finished rinsing her hair. She sat up in the tub and grabbed the cream rinse, then worked it through her long, pewter-coloured damp tresses. She let the cream saturate her hair, leaning back against him and he wrapped his arms around her.

"You're going to smell like a woman for the next couple of days," her sleep-roughened voice greeted his ears.

Fenris tightened his embrace and rested his forehead against her shoulder. "I'm glad you decided to come back."

Tears sprang to Aria's eyes. She'd been in the Fade, she was sure. She searched and searched for her mother there, in their old Lothering home, but she was all alone. The warmth of the water and the comforting scent of the soap had drawn her back, but it was his tender actions that made her want to even open her eyes.

"Thank you," she whispered, then sat forward to use the pitcher to rinse her hair. She turned in the tub to face him, handing him the wash rag he'd used to clean her body with. He took it and put some of her soap on it, but when he moved to start washing himself, she gently took over the task.

Fenris said nothing, just watched. It was an odd feeling, having someone care for him like this. His fierce need for independence warred with his need for her touch. She was brisk, but gentle, and the grime turned the water dark. They rinsed and rose from the tub after they were sufficiently clean and they dressed themselves.

"Where's...Mother?" Aria asked him as she pulled her hair up into her characteristic ornate bun.

"She is in her room," Fenris softly stated, watching her fingers work.

"Has she been given last rites?" Aria tearfully queried, managing to not let the sob in that threatened to choke her.

"Yes. Grand Cleric Elthina was here last night," he answered her.

Aria finished her hair, then combed her fingers through his. She smiled a sad, loving smile and tousled his hair. "May I trim this up a bit? You're getting kind of shaggy."

"Not too much," Fenris admonished.

"I won't. I used to cut Father and Carver's hair all the time," Aria replied, the sting of their memory bringing more tears to her eyes.

Fenris watched in silence while she fished a sharp pair of small shears out of her writing desk. She snatched her comb off the bed side vanity, then motioned him to sit in the chair he'd dragged next to her bed. She quickly took an inch or two off the length of his hair, keeping his trademark style in tact while sharpening it up a bit. She gave him her looking glass while she swept up the trimmings.

"Thank you," he quietly said, handing the small hand mirror back to her. She placed it back on the night stand and turned to look at him.

"What do I do now?" Aria helplessly asked him. "I've...lost everything."

"You keep going. You aren't alone," he feverishly responded, nearly unsettling the chair as he abruptly stood. He strode over to her and cupped her face in his hands. "I don't know what to say about all of this. But I do know that so long as I breathe, you are not alone."

Aria smiled through her tears and rose up on her tiptoes to kiss him. Then, she went to the tub and pulled the plug so that the water drained out. She was just about to unlock the door when someone rapped three times, lightly and politely.

"Messere?" Orana's voice came from the other side. "Anders and Gamlen await you in the parlor."

Aria swiftly opened the door and Orana's eyes went wide with joy. She threw herself at Aria and engulfed her in a hug.

"Oh! Mistress! I'm so glad you're awake!" the little elven girl cried, burying her face against Aria's shoulder.

At first Aria didn't know what to think, but she was thankful for such a greeting. She embraced the girl, then gently brought her back so that Aria could look into her eyes. "Thank you," Aria softly said, then released her. Fenris was right behind them as they went down the stairs.

"I'm so happy to see you're awake," Anders gushed as she entered the room. He too engulfed her in a hug, but not so exuberantly as Orana had.

Gamlen held out his arms to her and Aria willingly went into them. He looked how she felt. His eyes were bloodshot and swollen, his shoulders hunched as though under a great weight, and his skin was pale.

"I feared we'd lose you too," her uncle whispered against her hair. "I'm glad you decided to wake."

The meeting was interrupted by a heavy knock on the front door. Then the bell pull sounded. Bodahn raced to answer it, calling for Hawke as soon as he opened the door. Aria strode out to the foyer and the sight there made her stop dead in her tracks.

Ser Cullen and Grand Cleric Elthina stood there with a complement of templars behind them, surrounding a person Aria couldn't quite see. Ser Cullen stepped to the side and offered the woman his hand. But the woman had clear line of sight now and her gaze met Aria's.

Aria bolted at the same time as the dark-haired, doe-eyed woman did and they collided in the center of the foyer, dropping to their knees together.

"Oh sister!" Bethany cried, kissing Aria's forehead and cheeks. "Oh sister, I'm so sorry!"


	34. Chapter THIRTY-THREE

**Chapter 33**

The Knight-Commander had allowed for Bethany's home visit with some stipulations. Two templars would remain as guards the entire length of her stay, which was to last no longer than seven days. However, Bethany could return to the circle at any time. If she cast any spells, it had to be with the templar guards' permission and supervision. Aria was certain the Knight-Commander was not afraid of Bethany trying to escape; she was using the guards as a means to eavesdrop on the intimate goings-on of Aria's life. Aria knew they'd have to report back to her everything they saw and the Knight-Commander thought she'd garner leverage from it. Aria wasn't stupid. She was wise to the ways of politicians and others in power. Meredith would have to try harder. Aria had never even seen the woman, and already, she loathed her.

Aria met with Bethany and Gamlen in her study, Fenris at her side and Anders at the other end of the table. Mother had not drafted a Will. That left the tedious task of deciding what was going to happen and who got what, not that Mother really had much anymore. Her clothes, some jewelry, shoes, and things of that nature. Most would be donated, they decided. Aria could not fit into her mother's clothes, but Bethany expressed interest in a few of the dresses.

As for funeral arrangements, there would be a service at the Chantry early in the afternoon. Afterwards, Gamlen would preside over Leandra's cremation, and store her ashes in the family crypt at the cemetery overlooking the harbour. Bethany wanted to visit the Chantry gardens and collect some flowers to place in the vault. She would probably end up keeping some for crafting their soaps and lotions. Following that, there would be a private wake at the Hanged Man for friends and family.

Anders and Gamlen left together, but split up when they reached the Chantry. Being around so many templars was extremely dangerous for the possessed mage, Aria knew. She could see him struggling to keep control of Justice in the presence of one of the templar guards on duty at the moment, a man named Ser Alrik. Aria noted it and catalogued it as something to question him about later. Gamlen went to the Chantry to discuss plans and to have Leandra's body prepared for cremation.

Bethany and Aria retreated to Aria's chambers, and Fenris excused himself to inform Varric of the plans for the Hanged Man wake. The real reason he left though, was to give Aria and Bethany time alone. The whole situation was new to him and extremely awkward for him. He didn't say as much, but Aria could read the elf like an open book. She kissed him before he left; the familiarity of the gesture gave Bethany something on which she could segue into their conversation that didn't involve Mother. They ignored the guards that silently followed them into the room.

"So you're official, then?" Bethany asked as soon as Fenris had disappeared down the stairs.

Aria sat on the bed next to her sister, her movements weary and lethargic. Her body hurt. Her head hurt. Her heart hurt. "I'm surprised tales of our…relationship haven't reached you in the Gallows."

"We aren't privy to much Hightown gossip," Bethany replied, uncharacteristic bitterness staining her words. "But, I am happy that you have someone. And I am happy that it's him."

"Thank you," Aria said with a sad smile, taking both her sister's hands in hers. They faced each other cross-legged on the bed.

"It's…terrible of me, but I don't want to go in there until they've…taken Mother out," Bethany quietly stated, her dark eyes brimmed with tears.

"No, it isn't. She wouldn't want you to see her that way," Aria consoled her, gently squeezing her hands. "That man did…terrible things to her."

"You killed him?"

"Yes," Aria answered, the bitter taste of failure scalded her tongue. "I…ripped his heart out, I think. Everything was a blur. I just…I just…snapped."

"You don't have to tell me. I don't…think I want to know. Did she…get to say goodbye, at least?" Bethany asked, her voice hopeful.

Aria nodded, a sudden sob choking her. "Yes."

Bethany let out a single sob and leaned forward to hug her sister. "If…if it doesn't hurt you too much, can you tell me what she said?"

Aria tightened her embrace around her sister and ground her teeth to keep from coming undone. She had to be strong right now. Her little sister needed her to be. "She said… She said she knew I'd come for her. That at least she was free now. That…she'd see Carver and Father…" At this, Aria's resolve broke and she gushingly sobbed the last words, "She said she loved me, and that she was proud of me."

They stayed there for several moments, sobbing in each other's arms. Orana came in with a lunch tray for them, which forced them apart and to focus on something other than their overwhelming grief. It was a much welcome interruption.

"Mistresses, there have been several bouquets and dishes delivered in the past hour. What would you have me do with it all?" Orana asked once they'd started eating, joining them on the bed to share the food at Aria's insistence.

"I will come down and we can sort through it together," Aria told her once she'd started eating some of the wafers, cheese, and fruit on the tray.

"It's probably going to continue all day," Bethany groused, voraciously consuming the food.

Aria quirked a brow at her. "Don't they feed you in the Gallows?"

Bethany rolled her eyes and savoured the fruit-and-cheese-laden wafer she'd just stuffed whole into her mouth. "Not stuff this good," she mumbled through chewing. She had lost quite a bit of weight since Aria had last seen her—nearly three years ago. Dark hollows existed under her eyes and her high cheek bones were slightly more pronounced.

Aria chuckled softly but said nothing more on the subject. She kept the underlying, seething rage in check; for now. Later, she fully intended to inquire after her sister's treatment, forcefully if necessary. Bethany was all she had left, and she would kill anyone that dared so much as look at her wrong.

Orana beamed at them as she ate with them, the experience a rare treat for her. The young lady elf was a very bright presence and it lifted Aria's spirit to have her here.

"I've heard so many wonderful things about you, Mistress Bethany. It is a very good thing to have you here, even if the circumstances are terrible," Orana said after a moment.

"Thank you," Bethany replied, returning the smile Orana gave her. "Mother spoke kindly of you in her letters, Orana."

If it was possible, Orana's smile widened. "I am pleased she thought highly of me. I've tried to do well, especially after all Mistress Aria has done for me."

Aria grinned for her benefit and reached out to briefly squeeze Orana's hand. Bethany smiled sweetly at the gesture and loaded another wafer.

"Do you remember that time Father was waylaid on his way back home from Denerim, and he caught you in the field, fighting on the practice dummy?" Bethany asked as she popped the wafer into her mouth.

"The first time?" Aria countered, taking a couple wafers and eating them by themselves.

"Yes! You were using his sword!"

Aria giggled at this. "And he'd just sharpened the blade! How he didn't tan my hide for that, I'll never know."

"I remember Carver laughed so hard, he lost his bladder!" Bethany chortled, leaning forward.

"And then, Father made me whet the blade for him. 'If you're going to use a sword, Birdie, you're going to learn to take care of it'. Three hours I spent bent over that damn blade."

"Carver was so mad that Father let you start learning to fight," Bethany giggled.

"When wasn't Carver mad?" Aria hooted, then sat up on her knees, shaking her fist at the ceiling. "You hear that, you lout?"

"Aria!" squealed Bethany, "He wouldn't listen anyway!"

They laughed together, so hard that when their laughter subsided, tears were in Aria's eyes and her abdominals hurt.

"Oh, Maker. I do miss that sodding jerk," Aria sighed. "Goodness, the fights we'd get into. One night, I put a horned toad in his bed. The sound he made when he jumped up and ran outside…"

Bethany laughed again, her hand clutching her side. "Oh don't! I feel if I laugh anymore right now, I'll start crying."

"Master Carver, he was your brother?" Orana asked.

"Yes. A real pain in the ass, but handy in a fight," Aria replied.

"He was very attached to Mama," Bethany hiccupped, swallowing the sob that rose.

Aria took Bethany's hand, fighting her own tears. She didn't have anything to say that hadn't already been said. Bethany returned the squeeze and turned to look at the door. They heard footsteps on the landing.

"This one here?" a foreign voice asked.

"No, the one over there," came Gamlen's tenor.

They listened in silence as the footsteps moved towards Mother's room. Bethany stood and went to the door.

"Bethany, don't," Aria pleaded, stepping in front of her sister, barring her from exiting the room.

"Could I forgive myself if I didn't see her one last time?" Bethany pleaded.

"Please, please, trust me sister," Aria entreated. "She would _not_ want that to be your last memory of her."

Bethany sighed and went back to sit on the bed. Aria followed, haunted by the last images of her mother flashing behind her eyes. She squeezed them closed and balled her hands into fists for just a second. She abruptly splayed her fingers as she opened them again, then returned to her seat next to Bethany.

"Why did this happen?" Bethany sighed.

"I don't know," Aria resignedly answered her query.

"No, I mean… What did happen? How did everything lead up to this?"

Aria inhaled deeply, then exhaled very slowly out her nose before she responded. "He was a blood mage and a necromancer. He was obsessed with some sort of…resurrection magic. He wanted to bring his wife back. She…happened to look like Mama."

"That's deplorable! Horrid!" Bethany cried. "He murdered Mother because she looked like his wife? What kind of…foul…twisted…creature does that?"

"A dead one," Aria venomously replied.

"Somehow, death just seems too easy," Bethany said vengefully.

Aria couldn't disagree. If there had been any way she could have done more to that man than she did… But he was rotting in the Void. Aria hoped some demon made him its bitch. That would be satisfactory justice for her. And, it would be for eternity.

Aria sat at her desk late in the evening. Bethany slept soundly in her bed. They'd furnished chairs for this shift of templar guards, and they both dozed. Aria hated their presence. It was a breach of privacy that she deemed disgusting.

She sipped at the wine in her hand, twisting the stem of the glass between her fingers, a dried quill rested in her other hand. She lowered the glass to the desk and sat forward. Aria stared at the journal page, the last entry from two days ago.

How could life go on? Somehow, she felt that if she penned the events of the 24 hours, it would make them seem more real. She didn't want to relive the memories. She didn't want to feel any of this anymore. This…constant fear of losing everything was like a blood hound on a trail, her trail, and it now had her treed with no escape. She could either fall to her death at the bottom of the void in which the tree grew, or throw herself into the hound's jaws.

Flemeth's words to her were starting to make sense. She stood now on the precipice of change, the Hounds of Hell savagely drove her to the edge. Before her was the abyss. How did one learn to fly? What waited at the bottom of the abyss that yawned ominously before her should she fail to take to the air?

"You should be sleeping," Fenris's voice greeted her from the door. She didn't know how long he'd been there, but the way he looked at her, she could tell it had been for quite some time.

"I've slept too much today as it is," Aria replied, thankful for the distraction his presence granted her. She closed the journal and stretched her cramped limbs.

He strode in and took the glass from the desk. Fenris sniffed at it, swirling it expertly to release the flavour of the wine. He took a sip and nodded appreciatively. "Antivan. You do have a proclivity for it."

Aria smiled at him and took the glass as he offered it, taking a long draw from it that drained half the glass. She handed it back to him and he finished it, gently setting the glass on the desk before he offered her his arm. He looked exhausted, she realized.

"Where are we going?" she asked him, ignoring the obviously perked attention of the guards, who were now fully awake.

"Wherever you wish," Fenris replied as he led her from the room. He nodded at the templars, who returned the gesture.

"You look so tired," Aria said to him, allowing him to lead her down the stairs. She froze when she reached the bottom step and looked up at the parlor before them.

Bouquets of varying sizes and flower species adorned all the tables and shelves in the room. She was shocked by the response from the townspeople. It was a humbling thing, seeing the physical evidence others' regards for her family. Bodahn slept in the chair by the hearth, a ledger on his lap.

"I've been worse," Fenris responded to her statement, watching her take in the scene.

"How am I going to get through tomorrow?" Aria asked then, looking to the ceiling to keep her eyes from tearing up again. She felt as though she'd cried so much today, she'd wilt and float away on the slightest breeze.

"One foot in front of the other, one breath at a time. This too shall pass," he softly answered her, turning her gently by the shoulders to face him.

Aria swiped angrily at the tears she couldn't hold. She glared at her feet a second, then met his eyes, unable to think of anything to say.

"Do you wish to stay here tonight?" he asked her after a moment.

"I should," Aria resignedly sighed. "I don't think Bethany is going to need to go to the Chantry gardens tomorrow."

Fenris chuckled and looked around the flower-strewn room. "I think that's where most of these probably came from."

"Probably. The nobles will then blame the acute flower shortage in Kirkwall on me, and things will go back to normal," Aria snarkily stated.

"They'll find something, I'm sure."

She turned to him again and tenderly ensnared his neck in her embrace. His arms went around her and he rested his chin on the top of her head. Aria closed her eyes and savoured his warmth. He always had a way of making her realize how cold she felt without him.

"You should go home, get some rest," Aria murmured momentarily.

Fenris stepped back from her to look into her eyes. "Only if you do the same."

Aria placed a quick kiss on his lips. "I promise."

He eyed her dubiously, one brow arched. "I'm not sure I believe you."

She chuckled wryly. "I'll do my best, then."

He sighed and pulled her back to him, his mouth gently claimed hers. It was a lingering kiss, one that made her suddenly feel as though her limbs were made of lead, as though she'd just finished a grueling battle and adrenaline dump sapped her muscles of all their strength.

"I'll accept nothing less," Fenris whispered, his lips brushed against her ear. He stepped away then, his hand catching hers. "What time shall I return?"

"Whenever you deem necessary," Aria noncommittally declared.

He chuckled. "I'll be here as soon as I wake, which will probably be shortly after dawn."

"You know where I'll be," she murmured. "Good night, Fenris."

He kissed her hand, then once more on the lips. "Good night, Aria."

Aria slid the bolt back down once she'd closed the door in the wake of his exit. She then went over to Bodahn. She gently shook him awake, catching the ledger before it could fall and spill its contents on the floor. She deposited it on the desk and bade the dwarf good night. She extinguished the lanterns and stoked the fire in the parlor hearth before she went back up the stairs to her room.

The templars nodded politely at her when she returned and she asked them to step outside the room while she changed into her bed clothes. They were reluctant to do so, but she promised to be quick. As soon as she finished, she let them back in, then crawled under the covers next to Bethany.

She stared at her sister's gaunt, peacefully sleeping visage until at last sleep overtook her.


	35. Chapter THIRTY-FOUR

**A/N: **_Thank you for all the new follows and reviews! It has been such a pleasure to see the exponentially growing interest in my version of the story! It will be picking up again after this chapter; I promise._

**Chapter 34**

Aria and Bethany stood hand in hand at the altar while the Grand Cleric blessed the body in the closed casket before them. Gamlen, who stood on Bethany's other side, had locked the lid at Aria's request. She didn't want anyone else to see Mother like that, and especially not Bethany. When Aria returned to retake her seat at the front of the Chantry's pews before the altar, her eyes swept the enormous crowd.

It seemed half of Kirkwall turned out for Mother's funeral. Her friends occupied the first row, then she recognized some of the merchants. Hubert was there, along with Lady Elegant and Worthy. Aria was even more surprised when she saw a few Dalish at the back of the Chantry; Keeper Marethari inclined her head sadly when her eyes met Hawke's. She crossed her forearm over her heart and bowed, as did the three or four other elves she had with her. Then, they took their leave. It was dangerous for Dalish in the city. Slavers preferred the wild ones. Aria was humbled that they'd even come, and so quickly. How had Marethari known?

The service ended and the people filed up to Aria, Bethany, and Gamlen to offer their condolences. The nobles especially viewed Fenris with open curiosity as he stood just behind Aria, her silent support. What felt like years later, the last people filed out of the Chantry and it was just Hawke's inner circle that still remained, along with Bethany's guard and the Grand Cleric.

"Your Mother was well-loved, but I think that impressive turnout can be attributed to support for you, Hawke," Elthina said as the cloistered sisters rearranged the Chantry's seating arrangements. She watched Aria's reaction closely, as though it was an important detail.

"I am humbled, Your Grace," Aria politely replied, her eyes going to Gamlen, who was assigning pall-bearers. They would have to carry the casket out to the waiting ox cart, which would take it to the crematorium near the cemetery. Fenris, Anders, Donnic, and Aveline stood around the pretty ebony wood box. "Excuse me," Aria said, taking up the lead on carrying it, Gamlen on the opposite side.

They carried it out to the cart and Donnic, Anders, and Aveline went with Gamlen. Bethany watched from the top of the Chantry steps as the ox cart driver led them away. Aria and Fenris joined her, along with Isabela, Merrill, Varric, Bodahn, Sandal, and Orana. The streets surrounding the Chantry were still very crowded, and people still came up to the Hawkes as they returned to Aria's estate.

Aria was thankful to be in her own home, with a locked door between herself and the public. She decided to venture out to her rather small backyard, something she hadn't done since the first week she'd moved in, almost three years ago. She'd never had a reason to go out there, as she was hardly ever home, it always seemed.

The sight that greeted her eyes brought her to her knees. Her Mother had been very busy over the years, renovating the small space between the neighbouring estates. A regal fountain that stood about seven feet high adorned the center of the space. It was a sparrow hawk, like the ones in Lothering's fields, and it had a bouquet of stone flowers in its white marble beak. It clutched a bucket in its talons, which served as the source for the fountain's flow of water. The pool surrounding the beautiful stone statue was about knee deep and twelve feet in diameter.

There were low benches all around the lawn, which consisted of the most luscious looking grass Aria had ever seen before in her life. Rose bushes and hibiscus, honeysuckle and tiger lilies grew in carefully maintained pockets throughout the space. The high stone fence was covered in morning glory vines; the types which only opened in the moonlight.

"Oh...Aria..." Bethany breathed as she followed her sister outside onto the veranda. "This is... This is stunning."

"Mother did all of this. I...haven't been out here in years. That is no lie," Aria reverently whispered.

"I didn't even know this existed back here," Fenris's voice sounded behind Aria as she rose to her feet.

"I'll definitely be spending more time out here," Aria replied.

"May I take some of these back to the Circle with me?" Bethany chimed then, tears in her soft brown eyes. She gently cupped a large, periwinkle-hued rose and breathed its scent deeply.

"Take as many as you need," Aria replied. She then circled the fountain, and she saw a bronze and copper plaque on the other side of it. Aria brushed her fingers over the shining surface as she read it.

_May fortune smile upon ye, those brave in nature and stout of heart.  
The Hawke Family:  
Malcolm &amp; Leandra  
Aria  
Bethany  
Carver_

Orana came and Bethany asked her to fetch her some pruning shears and a vase. The servant girl came back but a moment later and helped Bethany clip some of the finest specimens from the garden. Aria left her to the task and went with Isabela and Merrill to one of the Hightown fashion boutiques. She intended to purchase some new clothes for Bethany to take with her back to the Gallows. Aria didn't know if that was allowed, but she didn't care. If need be, she'd employ Anders's help in smuggling them to her sister. Bethany had to borrow some of Aria's abundant black clothing for the funeral service as she had no mourning clothes of her own. The dress Bethany had decided on was too long and Orana had to put extra pins in the bodice to keep it from slipping off the mage.

"She's so...thin. I worry for your sister," Merrill said as they left the shop, their arms laden with several bags of clothing.

"I know. I plan to make an inquiry," Aria bitterly agreed.

"I doubt they'll even let her keep these," Isabela lamented, her eyes voraciously surveying their fashionable loot.

"They will," Aria said, her tone steely.

Isabela chuckled at this, while Merrill darted a few paces ahead of them, inspecting the cracks in the stone of the road. They returned to the Hawke Estate a couple hours later and prepared for the wake. Fenris had gone to run some of his own errands and promised to meet them later at the Hanged Man.

"So, you and Fenris, hmm?" Isabela said as Bethany went behind the screen to change into some of her new clothes. She asked Aria to throw the robe she'd worn to from the Gallows away. The templars couldn't very well take a naked mage through the streets.

"What of it?" Aria asked, wary of how the templar guards seemed to perk up at the juiciest parts of their conversations.

"That taut, controlled body. The brooding demeanor and intense gaze. I hear he still wears the shackles from his life in bondage, under his clothes. You know what they say about men like that, don't you?" Isabela continued, and Hawke could feel her cheeks reddening at this turn of conversation. Maker, she didn't need Knight-Commander Meredith to know about _this_.

"You'd think I'd learn. Alright, Isabela, what do they say?" Aria humoured the other rogue.

"Yes, what do they say?" Merrill chimed from her perch on the bed, intrigued.

"He can't find a saw!" Isabela gushed, and from behind the screen, Bethany giggled. Isabela chortled with her, then snorted. "I had you there! You thought I was going to say something dirty!"

One of the templar guards coughed to conceal his own laughter, and his partner thumped him across the chest. Isabela winked at Aria and strode over to both of them.

"How good at finding a saw would you be?" Isabela purred in the ear of the one who coughed, dragging her finger down his breastplate.

"I know my way about a tool shed," the templar replied.

"Oh my," Isabela purred.

"Isabela, do please refrain from assaulting the guards," Aria chirped, smiling apologetically at the both of them.

"They don't look like they mind," Isabela cooed, slithering between them and giving them her trademark sultry gaze.

"Perhaps when we're...off duty," the more stoic of the two templar guards said.

"I might hold you to that," Isabela murmured, then returned to the chair beside Aria.

"For what it's worth, sister, I am happy for you. I like Fenris. And it takes a strong man indeed to put up with all the fire you throw at him," Bethany said as she emerged from behind the screen. She wore a gorgeous, simple gown of dark muave, the bodice laced with emerald green cord. She slipped into a pair of white leather sandals Aria never wore, the kind which laced all the way to the knee.

"You look lovely, Bethany," Aria said, deflecting the conversation away from talking about Fenris. It still felt...new and fragile to her, as though speaking about this relationship with him would make it end.

"Oooh, I like that color on you!" Merrill gushed.

"May I keep it?" Bethany asked Aria, warily glancing at the guards.

"I'm throwing out those clothes you came with. Yes, you may keep it. And whatever others we brought for you," Aria said, her silent challenge to the templars now issued.

"I never thought... I never thought we'd get here," Bethany said after a tense moment of silence.

"What do you mean?" Aria asked, looking through her closet for something to wear herself. Isabela watched over her shoulder, shaking her head as Hawke's fingers sifted through the dresses and other clothes that hung in her closet. Aria elbowed her just hard enough to force her a step back and Isabela giggled.

"I didn't think we'd get the estate back. I didn't think I'd ever live to see the day where our family would be well-off again. But here we are..." Bethany's gaze took in the lavish surroundings of Aria's room. "You may think you failed, but I don't. You never fail to keep a promise."

Aria turned to look at her sister and crossed the room to hug her. They both fought tears and Aria offered her sister a smile before she went back to rummaging through her closet.

"Sod it all to the Void," Aria groused after a moment. "A closet full of clothes and nothing to wear."

Merrill giggled then. "You're so silly. There's plenty to wear."

They collectively laughed and Aria finally entrusted the grueling task of selecting an outfit to Isabela. She may not be able to trust the other rogue completely in all things, but she could at least count on the Rivaini temptress to pick out something that looked good. Aria sat on the bed between Merrill and Bethany while Isabela toiled at the closet.

"I won't stay long at the Hanged Man tonight," Bethany softly said. She shared a look with Aria that explained it all. Her eyes darted quickly to the guards and back. Aria nodded.

"I understand. I will try not to be out too late," Aria responded, fidgeting with the whet stone she'd snatched off the nightstand.

"No, do stay out. I feel as though…this is disrupting your life greatly and I don't want to—"

"Nonsense. I don't know when I'll be able to see you again," Aria cut in.

"Well, I will be here for another five days… And I kind of just want to bask in this luxury for a little while," Bethany diplomatically stated, and Aria understood the message. What Bethany was trying to say without actually coming out and saying it, was "Don't come home tonight—you've got a man." Aria was happy that she and her sister still had that deep connection, where it was what they didn't say that was the actual conversation. She was also happy that this particular conversation wouldn't give Knight-Commander Meredith any more leverage. Bethany always had her wits about her, and being in the Gallows seemed to have honed that aspect of her personality.

The Hanged Man wake was supposed to be a private affair, but half of Kirkwall crammed into the dingy little bar. Thankfully, Aveline set up a patrol for it and Varric's room was restricted access. Inside, only their small fellowship convened.

Aria next to Varric, who headed the table. Bethany sat to her right and Fenris sat to the right of her. The templars stood off to the side behind Bethany. Aveline and Donnic sat at the other end, with Merrill, Isabela, Bodahn, and Orana on the other side. Aria had demanded that Bodahn and Orana be present, because they had been an integral part of Leandra's last couple of years of life. Anders told Varric he'd be in later, once Bethany and the templars had left. His underground work made it too risky for him to be there. Gamlen would also be arriving late, as he was having a special urn made for his sister's ashes in their family vault.

Varric had set up an altar behind where he sat at the table. At the center of the altar rested the portrait of Mother that she and Bethany recovered those many years ago from the estate. Surrounding the portrait were a wreath and two bouquets. The rest of the altar was littered with several rows of shot glasses, already poured and ready for the drinking.

Once everyone was accounted for, they all settled down and Varric began the traditional praise of the deceased.

"I'm not too good at these things and most of the time, they're just one more excuse to drink myself stupid," Varric glibly stated as he stood at the end of the table and briefly looked back at the portrait. "But this time… This time I really feel it. Leandra Amell-Hawke. It's funny to say her full name because I've heard her called Mother so much, my inner monologues called her Mother too."

Bethany squeezed Aria's hand under the table and they leaned on each other, beaming at Varric.

"And a fine Mother she was!" Varric continued. "I mean, a story doesn't get any better than the one that belongs to Leandra Hawke. She turned down the life of luxury she'd been born into to live one in comfortable poverty for the sake of love, the love of an apostate no less. She bore three children, the shining reputations of two of them I can personally vouch for. She survived the Blight, survived being a refugee in a city that hated her, and most of all, she helped so many others survive in the process."

Varric turned and strode up to the altar, snatching a shot once he reached it. He held it up to the portrait. "Here's to a life that was damn well lived!" Varric downed the shot, setting the empty glass upside on the edge of the table before he returned to his seat.

They all clapped and laughed together, and then Aveline cleared her throat. She stood and walked up to the altar, snagging the next shot in the line Varric had started.

"Leandra took me in like her own and she didn't even know me. I told her I didn't want to be a burden once, and she took the remark as a grave insult. She helped anyone, regardless of station or race. If it weren't for her, I might not even be here right now."

Bethany's grip tightened around Aria's hand and they both fought tears together.

"To Leandra Hawke—the biggest heart to ever beat in Kirkwall!" Aveline saluted the portrait with her shot and downed it, then set the empty one on the corner next to Varric's.

To Aria's surprise, Fenris stood next and went to the altar. He looked at the portrait for a moment, his back to them. Then he took his shot and turned to face them.

"I had the privilege of spending many an afternoon tea with Leandra. I found her to be a fascinating source for living history pertaining to this strange city. I was also always humbled by the love she bore for her family. While her passing may be a tragedy, her life was a blessing that will leave a lasting legacy behind. To Leandra!" Fenris said. He downed the third shot in the line and placed the empty next to Aveline's.

Merrill popped up next and didn't move to the altar right away. She looked over at Aria and Bethany and smiled first. "The first time I saw Leandra, she was petting a kitten in the Lowtown Bazaar. I was new to this city and not once had I seen anyone show a stray cat affection," she chirped, then approached the altar. "She was a lovely person and she never once made me feel…less than equal. Here's to you, lethallan." Merrill tossed back her shot and followed the pattern laid out by those who paid their respects before her.

Isabela rose next and went to the altar. She took her shot, downed it, but held the empty glass in her fingers. "I'm sodding terrible at these things so I'll just say this: I wasn't as close to her as most of you, but we did share one of the same loves. That woman had killer fashion sense when it came to shoes!" She set the empty down next to Merrill's and blew a kiss to Leandra's portrait before returning to her seat.

Bodahn stood and went up there next and he spun the shot glass back and forth between his fingers as he spoke. "Mistress Amell was…one of the kindest, brightest, most loving people I have ever known. With all the trouble Lady Aria got up to, Mistress Amell never once missed a beat. She often reminded me of my own mother and I hope that she now rests peacefully." He quickly upturned the shot and placed it next to Isabela's.

Orana took her turn and gracefully approached the altar, her jewel-like green eyes sparkling with as yet unshed tears. She lifted the shot in one slender, small hand and sniffed it first. She sighed and looked at Aria. "When Mistress Aria rescued me from my former master, she told me to go to her home. I finally managed to get there, and it was the Lady Leandra who opened the door. She took me in without hesitation, made me a meal to eat, and gave me a bed to sleep in. It was the softest bed I'd ever slept in. And I had never had anyone prepare a meal for me before. I don't understand the cruel things that sometimes happen in this world, but…Leandra made it that much brighter for having been in it." The little elven girl downed the shot, her nose crinkling in distaste. Aria and Bethany both chuckled at this and applauded when she put the empty shot glass upside down next to Bodahn's.

Bethany gently pushed away from the table, her hand slipping out of Aria's after a quick, reassuring squeeze. The templars looked nervous as she went to the altar and stared at the portrait. She delicately picked up the next shot glass in the line, then turned to face the group.

"There are so many new faces at this table from the last time I spent any time here," she began, her cheeks already wet from tears. Still more fell as she continued, "And that is testament to her openness, to her kindness, and to her uncanny ability to see past our outward appearances. Human, elf, dwarf, mage, soldier, servant… She didn't see what the rest of the world told her to see. She saw what really was. I hope that all of us can learn from her, so that we may honor her in our daily routines."

Varric scoffed at that last. "Routines? Sunshine, you have been away too long!"

They collectively laughed and Bethany continued once it had subsided enough. "We went through a lot. We lost everything, except love for our family. And I want to say this for the benefit of all: Mama's passing was not something that any of you can fault yourselves for. She would never blame you. She would tell you to live your lives to the fullest, love with all your heart, and do good, always. Cheers, Mama! And thank you!"

As Bethany took her seat once more beside Aria, the rogue was crushingly aware that she was the only one who by rights was obligated to speak, and hadn't. She turned and looked at the portrait of her mother in her youth, so similar to how Bethany looked now. Aria finally stood and made her way slowly to the altar, cupping the shot glass full of clear liquid gingerly to her chest. Finally, she turned and faced them again, fidgeting with the vessel in her hand.

"Mama died in my arms," Aria softly stated, her eyes downcast. "I know it's something that is going to haunt me for the rest of my life, but at the same time, I experienced something so rare, something she wished she could have experienced with her own parents. Her last words to me were…were…" Aria fought the sob that rose and she heard Merrill whimper, then sniffle. "She said she loved me and she was proud of me. That woman used her dying breath to say that, and I can't think of a higher honor a parent can bestow upon their child." Aria drained the shot and turned to the portrait again, her eyes streaming tears. "I love you, Mama."

Everyone stood when Hawke turned back around towards them. They took their turns embracing Aria and Bethany, then Isabela, Merrill, Varric, and Fenris started whittling away at the remaining shots. Aria and Bethany stood together and took another shot as well. Bethany soon took her leave and winked at Aria before she disappeared outside Varric's door with her templar jailers.

"That's bloody insulting," Anders said next to Aria's ear, shocking her with his sudden appearance.

"Maker's breath, where were you hiding?" Aria spun to face him, her heart still recovering from the jolt he'd given her.

"In the closet. Cliché, right? The templars didn't even bother checking it," Anders replied, engulfing Aria in a hug.

"They're too busy gathering intel on me to send back to Meredith," Aria darkly stated, throwing back another shot of moonshine.

"Ah, so that's how she's justifying it to herself. Reconnaissance," Anders puzzled aloud.

"Letting Bethany out of the Gallows?" Aria followed his thought train.

"Yes," Anders replied, then guided her to a corner in the room where they wouldn't be overheard. "Listen, I know the timing is terrible, but I need your help. Tonight."

"Does it involve the templar you were extraordinarily ill at ease with in my house yesterday?"

He had the decency to look surprised for a moment, but it quickly passed. "It does."

A mixture of dread and hatred washed over her as she remembered the silent vow she made to herself regarding Bethany's obvious plight in the Gallows. She was being ill-treated, and Aria wasn't going to stand for it.

"I'm in," she flatly replied, downing another shot. "Say when."

"When what?" Fenris's voice cut in and Aria jumped. His eyes were cold as they landed on Anders, the hatred he'd buried for Anders the past few weeks returning to the surface.

"Meet me at my clinic in an hour," Anders icily stated, taking one more shot before he made his leave.

Fenris watched him go, his seething fury evidenced in the slight flaring of his brandings. He rounded on Aria then and she almost wilted under the cold rage of his gaze.

"You don't have to come," Aria whispered, looking away from him. Her eyes met Varric's and he started to make his way over.

"Yes, I do," Fenris quietly snarled. "I'm not letting you go into any fray of his alone."

"And what fray is that?" Varric nonchalantly entered the conversation.

"Anders has something important that has to be done tonight. You coming too?" Aria snapped, the bite in her tone much harsher than she had intended.

Varric smiled. "Now why would I pass that up?"


	36. Chapter THIRTY-FIVE

**Chapter 35**

"Have you noticed how many Tranquil are in the Gallows courtyard lately?" Anders asked as Aria, Varric, and a very, very angry Fenris entered his clinic in Darktown nearly an hour and a half later. He noticed that Aria's eyes were red with tears and she wouldn't look at Fenris. Her mother had just died and here she was, fighting for his cause. He tried to feel guilty, but instead he felt proud. He knew he could trust Aria to aide him. "And don't tell me I'm just sensitive to it," Anders continued, his words aimed at Fenris. "I've been watching, and every day there are new Tranquil, selling their bloody wares. Good mages, too. People I know passed their Harrowing."

"Chantry law states mages that pass their Harrowing cannot be made Tranquil," Aria coldly said for Varric's benefit. Aria was sure Fenris already knew that.

"Exactly," Anders breathed, his eyes beseeching all of them. "The templars are using the Rite of Tranquility to silence those who speak against them. They're working on a deliberate plan to turn every mage in Kirkwall within the next three years!"

"Forgive me for being the voice of reason, but how in the name of the Maker can you possibly know that?" Fenris snarled, stepping up so that he stood between Anders and Aria.

"There are groups in Kirkwall who help those fleeing the Circle. I've talked to people inside," Anders ignored him and still spoke to Aria. "The plan is the work of a templar named Ser Alrik. I've had a run-in with him myself. He's the one who did the ritual on Karl. Nasty piece of work. Likes to make mages beg."

"What happened?" Aria pressed, grabbing Fenris's hand and holding it. It was a gesture of equal parts restraint and love at the moment; Fenris's hate of Anders had returned tenfold.

"I've been involved with an…underground resistance," Anders said then, which they had all already known. "Mages living free in Kirkwall who help others escape. I can't tell you any more, for your sake and theirs. You have too much involvement with the Guard and nobility." He addressed Fenris once more, "Suffice it to say, I've been in the Gallows. I've seen his work firsthand."

Aria took a step back, glaring at him. His doubt in her commitment to opposing the Kirkwall Circle was deeply insulting. "What else can you tell me about Ser Alrik?" she testily asked.

"The Knight-Commander is at least sincere in her convictions. However misguided, she believes she's helping people. Ser Alrik's a sadist. Cold-blooded as a lizard. He likes to experiment on mages. He finds out what it takes to push them into the arms of demons," Anders explained.

"So he's doing this what…behind Meredith's back then?" Aria queried, gently releasing Fenris's hand. He still glowered at her, his eyes spitting acidic green sparks at her.

"That's what I hope," Anders replied. "If we bring the evidence of this plan to light, there must be people who will stand against it. Perhaps even the Grand Cleric will finally be forced to act," he continued, moving past them and checking outside the doors of the clinic. He motioned them to follow him. "My friends in the mage underground know a way inside. A secret entrance under the walls of the Gallows. That is why I asked you to come with me tonight. I need your help to stop him."

Fenris stopped abruptly, catching Aria by the shoulder and spinning her to face him. He backed her up to the wall and pinned her there. "You're not helping Bethany by doing this. You're only going to make it worse for her! And then how much will you hate yourself?"

Tears sprang anew to Aria's bloodshot eyes. "What am I supposed to do? Let them destroy her, so that every time I'm summoned to the bloody Gallows to carry out the next investigation, I have to see her walking around like a simpleton, peddling her soaps for a living?"

"This is _not_ the right way to stop it!" Fenris yelled, his chilling emerald gaze swiveling to level on Anders. "You'll get her killed! Both of them!"

Anders shook his head and kept walking. Varric stepped up to Fenris and gently separated him from Aria. She shook her head as well and caught up with Anders. Varric and Fenris were not far behind. Fenris cursed under his breath in his snarling baritone voice and Varric wisely kept his mouth shut.

They reached the secret entrance half an hour later in a particularly decrepit part of Darktown. Anders lifted the trap door and looked up at Aria. "I've always feared being made Tranquil. Now, more than ever."

Aria shook her head. "That's not going to happen."

"Some mages need to be made Tranquil," Fenris outspokenly growled.

"Your opinion has been noted. You can stay here if you like," Aria spat at him.

Fenris glared at her then strode up to Anders. He jabbed him in the chest with his index finger, hard enough to force the mage back a few steps. "You made a promise! I told you what would happen if you broke it!"

"I will keep that promise," Anders solemnly stated, his hands extended palms out in a placating manner.

"See that you do," Fenris quietly, but venomously replied. "Let's go."

They filed into the tunnel that led them underneath the city. Varric decided to take the role of buffer, and he kept himself between Aria and the two warring men who now strode side-by-side, glaring at each other.

Aria wanted to ask about the promise, but the ill timing prevented her from doing so. They would need to be quiet if they were going to sneak up on Alrik. Another outburst from Fenris would surely give them away. Aria was already walking on egg shells as it was, knowing now about some promise struck between Anders and Fenris concerning her.

They walked for what seemed like ten miles to Aria, but what in reality may have only been a half of a mile. The uncomfortable silence was deafening and the whole situation made her feel as though her skin was crawling. She was a nervous wreck.

Anders halted the group when they heard voices coming from around the bend in the narrow corridor where they now stood. Aria turned her head and cupped her ear with her hand to eavesdrop a little before they got to the fun part.

"No! I haven't done anything wrong!" a young girl's voice rent the silence of the cavern.

"That's a lie," a malicious sounding male voice came in response. "What do we do to mages who lie?"

"I just wanted to see my mum! No one ever told her where they were taking me!" the girl's voice pleaded again.

Justice's white light flashed through Anders and he fought him down. Aria stepped forward, but Fenris pushed her back, his body coming between them. He shook his head curtly at Hawke, silently telling her to stay away.

"So you admit your attempted escape," came the man's voice again. "You know what happens to mage girls who don't toe the line around here, don't you?"

Aria struggled to listen more closely, to discern just how many bodies there were around the corner. She could hear the clink of armour as others shifted restlessly. She could hear at least four other persons present. Her amber gaze met the darker brown one of Anders. His eyes pleaded with her.

"Please, no!" the girl's voice shrilly echoed throughout the tunnels. "Don't make me Tranquil! I'll do anything!"

Aria darted past Fenris, swiftly and silently, Anders following right in her footsteps, spinning his staff into combat position. She unsheathed and flicked her daggers, her eyes darting around the chasm that opened above and around her. The templars had their backs to her, and the girl knelt on the ground before a bald-headed, tall, surly templar. Aria recognized him as one of the guards who had accompanied Bethany yesterday when she first arrived.

"How do you think Knight-Commander Meredith will react when she finds you've been flagrantly abusing the Rite of Tranquility?" Aria boomed, abruptly drawing the templars' attention.

But the focus quickly shifted to Anders—or rather, Justice, who had completely taken over his body. "You fiends will never touch a mage again!" he snarled, swirling his staff as he stalked forward. His skin looked as though it were made of stone and had cracked, revealing an ominous white light behind it. His eyes glowed a cold ice blue.

All hell broke loose then. Aria and Justice launched simultaneously for Alrik, while Fenris and Varric slipped into crowd control on the eight or so other templars present. They couldn't hold the templars completely, and Aria was reluctantly forced to engage the two that now attacked her.

She ducked under the swing of one of their greatswords and smashed herself into the templar's shield, sending him sprawling on his derriere. She spun and ducked again as the second tried to get her with his longsword, sweeping his legs out from under him in the same motion. Aria whipped one of her throwing knives at the neck of the first templar, then brought the pommels of her daggers down hard on the top of the second templar's helm. The first templar sank to the ground, frantically trying to dislodge the knife in his neck, but the wound she'd inflicted severed his carotid artery and he was not long for this world.

The second templar threw Aria off, sending her smashing into the cavern wall. She grunted with the impact, then winced. Broken ribs were certainly not one of her favourite battle injuries. Aria struggled to her feet and snagged a health potion from the sewn in pocket on her belt and downed it quickly. The magical elixir didn't heal the bones entirely, but it gave her enough reprieve to continue the fight.

The templar regained his fighting stance as Aria recovered and he swung at her again. She dropped, narrowly evading the blade's bite. She kicked his feet out from under him once more, this time sending him flat on his back. Aria rammed one of her daggers to the hilt just under his arm when he tried to stand again, puncturing a lung in the process. She buried the other dagger into his neck, severing his spinal cord just under the earlobe.

She turned and launched another assault on Ser Alrik, who was distracted by his combat dance with Anders. Aria tripped him too, then brought her blade to his throat. He grinned wickedly at her before she severed his head from his body.

Aria looked around then, and saw the three of her other companions just finishing the other templars. Aria was going to say something to Varric but the words were lost when Aria saw Justice approaching the girl.

"They will die!" Justice fumed. "I will have every last templar for these abuses!"

"It's over, Anders. They're all dead," Aria stepped between Justice and the girl, appealing to the man she knew still existed within the normally benevolent abomination.

Justice shoved Aria aside, hard enough that she lost her footing and slammed into the wall again. Fenris sprang towards him, but Justice knocked him back with one swift swing of his staff.

"Every one of them will feel Justice's burn!" Justice cried, stalking towards the girl once more.

"Get away from me, demon!" the girl cried, holding her hands up in a feeble gesture of defense.

"I am no demon!" Justice roared above her, fierce and powerful in his righteous brand of rage. "Are you one of them, that you would call _me_ such?!"

"She's the very thing you're trying to protect!" Aria screamed at him, struggling to her feet and stepping towards him again. "She's the reason you did this, Anders!"

"Justice answers to nobody!" Justice spat back at her. "She is one of them!"

"Please! Messere!" the girl begged, falling to her knees.

Justice rose to his full fury and Aria felt helpless. He was going to kill that mage and Anders would never forgive himself. But then, just before the staff came down on the girl's upturned, pleading face, the white light extinguished. Anders was back in control. He stumbled backwards and covered his face. He wept right there, falling to his knees.

The girl ran and Hawke limped over to where the mage knelt, shaking with silent sobs. When Aria rested her hand on his shoulder, he stood again, and his eyes pleaded with her.

"Maker, no! I almost…if you weren't here… I… I need to get out of here!" Anders cried. He bolted back down the passage they'd just emerged from.

Aria went after the girl down the passage that led in the opposite direction, Fenris and Varric hot on her heels. She found the girl a little ways down, sobbing where she fell against the tunnel wall. Aria reassured her and got her to her feet.

"You…you saved my life, messere," the girl said to Aria. "What was that thing?"

"He isn't what you think," Aria started, but was interrupted by Fenris.

"He's _exactly _what she thinks!"

"Can I…go home now?" the girl asked, her mocha-skinned cheeks stained with fresh tears. Her dark eyes entreated Aria for mercy.

"Ser Alrik is gone. You'll be safest in the Circle," Aria replied, ignoring the grunt of frustration that came from Fenris.

"Without Ser Alrik… Maybe Bethany's right. The Circle isn't so bad. Thank you again, messere," the girl said, then ran farther into the tunnel.

Aria turned and went the opposite direction, her mind still on the task. They needed to provide evidence of Ser Alrik's abuses so that she could bring them before Knight-Commander Meredith. If she had condoned these acts, Aria was taking the matter over Meredith's head to the Grand Cleric. If Meredith was innocent of any knowledge pertaining to this twisted, sick bastard's plans, then Aria would feel much better about Bethany being in the Circle. The fact that the girl knew her sister made Aria feel that much more confident in her decision to persuade the girl to stay in the Circle. It seemed Bethany had made some good impressions on the youth in the Gallows. And Aria knew the girl wouldn't make it if she just upped and left on her own. They'd hunt her down for sure, and she'd meet death at the end of a noose.

They looted the bodies of the templars, Aria taking it upon herself to search Alrik's corpse. She found a letter in the messenger bag he'd been wearing, along with a bag of silvers and some vials of health and stamina potion. She pocketed the money and vials, but read the letter.

_To Her Excellency, Divine Justinia,_

_I am well aware both you and Knight-Commander Meredith have rejected my proposal, but I beg you to reconsider. The mages in the Free Marches are past controlling, their numbers have doubled in the last three years, and they have found a way to plant their abominations within our ranks. They cannot be contained! _

_The Tranquil Solution is our answer. All mages at the age of maturity must be made Tranquil. They'll coexist peacefully, and retain their usefulness—a perfect strategy! It's simply the best way to ensure all mages follow the laws of men and the Maker. _

_I remain, as always, your obedient servant,_

_Ser Otto Alrik_

"His claim was correct then," Fenris snarled by her ear, having read the letter over her shoulder.

Aria started and almost dropped the letter. "It would appear so. Right down to Knight-Commander Meredith rejecting Alrik's proposal," she replied, stuffing the letter in her pocket. "I have to show it to Anders. Do some…damage control."

Fenris whirled away from her, throwing his hands up in the air. "Bah! Why do you even bother?! Why do I even bother! He doesn't care, either way. He will do everything he can to see mages ascend to power. Can you not see that? Are you so bloody blind?"

"He's not after power!" Aria launched back at him. "He wants freedom! Have you _looked_ at Bethany? She's skin and bones! She's so…bitter and tainted. My sweet, gentle, innocent sister! I tried to protect her from that! I tried to keep her safe from all this…madness in the world!"

"So that's why you're doing this? Not because you want to help him?" Fenris snapped at her. "That's your real reason?"

"I failed Mama! She's dead! And so is Bethany if she's kept in that…that…foul, rotten, evil place! I can't fail again, Fenris. I won't fail again!" Aria screamed back at him. "I have to get her out, and Anders is the only one doing anything about it!"

"This isn't the way," Fenris softly and sadly stated. "This path you're on…this isn't the way."

"I'm out of options," Aria replied, gulping down air to keep from sobbing again. Her throat was sore and her eyes couldn't take more tears.

"No, you've just been so…bloody unfocused on which fires you should be putting out first," he gently stated, tentatively reaching his hand out to her while remaining at arms' length. "How did you get here, where you are?"

Aria eyed the hand he offered warily. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, leading up to the Deep Roads expedition, you were a slave driver to that one goal. You were possessed by the need to achieve. It gave you perspective and it let you see the right paths."

She took his hand and let him pull her to him. "How can I focus, when everyone in this city is ripping me in twenty thousand different Maker-damned directions?"

"Learn how to gracefully say no," he quietly replied.

"Wow," Varric cut in then and Aria blushed, having forgotten he was there. "You two really run the gamut when you have a fight."

"That wasn't…a fight," Fenris dryly said.

"Maker. If that wasn't a fight, I'd hate to see what you do call a fight," Varric laughed.

"Let's head back to the clinic. I want to wrap this up so I can get a few hours of sleep in before Bethany is up and about," Aria intervened, turning and heading back towards the Darktown entrance.

As they walked into the clinic Anders called home, he had their back to them, cleaning off one of his work spaces.

"Trash, trash, keep, trash, trash," he frantically muttered and his hands shook.

"Hey…" Aria said to get his attention. He didn't turn to face her. She sighed and started digging in her pocket for the now crumpled up letter. "This was all he had. Looks like the Tranquil Solution began—and ended—with him."

Anders straightened and looked up sharply at Aria. "Let me see that!" he said, pacing over to her and taking the letter from her hands. "The Divine…rejected the idea. Meredith rejected the idea!" He looked back at Aria, his eyes hopeful. "This was—not what I expected. Perhaps I should try talking with the Grand Cleric. Maybe she's more reasonable than I thought. Thank you," he said then, waving them out. "I have many new things to consider."

Aria bowed slightly out of respect and the three of them went back to the Hanged Man together. Isabela and Merrill were still in Varric's room, along with Gamlen and Bodahn.

"You went to a fight and you didn't take me?!" Isabela indignantly cried when she saw their faces. She was three sheets to the wind and setting full sail to cloud ten.

"We needed sober people," Fenris deadpanned, dropping his lean frame heavily onto the couch beside Bodahn.

"I was sober when you left," Isabela purred, sidling up to Fenris and licking her lips. "Let me guess… Green thong?"

"And that's it for Isabela tonight," Varric chimed, escorting the drunk rogue pirate captain onto the landing. He closed the door and locked it behind him.

"Aria, if it's not too much to ask, may I stay at your estate this evening? I would like to…spend some time with Bethany, before that bitch yanks her chains back to the Circle," Gamlen said as Aria started removing the most restricting pieces of her armour.

"Sure. Bodahn, see to it that my uncle is made comfortable," Aria distractedly replied.

"Right away, Mistress Hawke," Bodahn happily stated, finishing his pint and following Gamlen out the door.

"Varric…may I stay here tonight? I don't want to walk home right now," Merrill asked the dwarf.

"Of course, Daisy," Varric cordially and sweetly replied. He sat down on the sofa across from Fenris after snatching the last shot from the altar where Leandra's portrait still hung.

Aria plopped down next to Fenris and removed her light greaves, sighing at the rush of cool air that greeted her skin.

"Well done dodging that potential catastrophe tonight, Hawke," Varric toasted her, then downed his shot. He threw the glass at the fire place and the flames jumped higher for a split second.

"That did get rather sticky there for a second, didn't it?" Aria asked, leaning back against the soft plush cushions. She looked over at her mother's portrait. "Bethany is so much like her."

They all were quiet a moment. Varric dozed where he sat. Fenris leaned forward, his elbows bent and perched on his knees, his fingers laced together. He glared silently at the floor, the trim Aria had given him didn't allow his hair to fully conceal his eyes anymore. Aria looked between them and decided it was time to go.

She gently shook Varric awake again and explained that she and Fenris were leaving. He bade them good night and they set to the walk back up to Hightown.

"You are still angry," Aria said once they'd cleared the steps and walked across the empty bazaar. The moon was a couple days away from full and lit the square serenely.

"I'm not—angry," Fenris snarled.

"Yes, you certainly are," Aria challenged him.

"I think I'm the better judge as to what mood I'm in, considering it's _my_ mood," he retorted.

"Well, considering that sometimes, we don't realize we're in a mood until someone calls us on our bullshit, I'm gonna have to say… Bullshit," Aria snapped back.

They began to jog, Fenris glaring over at Aria every few paces. They ran to his doorstep. He made a show of being a perfect gentleman opening the door for her, then slammed it closed once they both were inside.

"Why are you angry again?" Aria asked, the note of her voice pleading.

Fenris grabbed her by the shoulders then and gently drew her to him. "I'm not angry. I'm frustrated. There's a difference."

"Please don't make me choose between my sister and you," Aria whispered, her cheek rested on the chest plate of his armour.

"I won't, Aria. Ever. But I might make you choose between Anders and myself. Eventually. When you're not so much of a bad luck magnet," Fenris rasped, then he bent and lifted her into his arms.

"No. No you're not going to charm me into forgetting about this," Aria giggled, though she didn't convincingly try to escape.

"Forget about what?" Fenris feigned innocence with his trademark sardonic flair.

"What promise did Anders make you regarding me?" she asked, wrapping her arms around his neck as he carried her to the stairs. He set her down and they held hands as he led her to his room. Once inside, he quickly started removing his armour.

"Fenris?" Aria asked, letting him dodge her for that last moment.

Fenris sighed. "We promised not to tell."

"I never thought I'd live to see the day where _you two_ conspired willingly against _me_," Aria testily stated, turning her back to him as she began working on undoing her own armour.

"How could anyone ever trust me if I can't keep as simple a promise as keeping my mouth shut?" came the mocking reply.

Aria rounded on him and he turned her momentum against her, firmly holding her with her back to the wall. "Then tell me this," she grunted, "What will you do to him if he breaks his promise?"

"The same thing I did to Hadriana," he fiercely whispered, his forehead touching hers.


	37. Chapter THIRTY-SIX

**Chapter 36**

They both woke to someone pounding on Fenris's front door. He jumped out of bed first, pulling his underarmour on as he went, greatsword in hand. Aria quickly put on her own underarmour, then quickly slapped the rest of her armour on. She trotted down the steps to the foyer, sheathing her daggers as she jogged.

"Ah, there she is! Serah Hawke!" Seneschal Brann's voice called out with false cheer. His eyes regarded her as though she were vermin to be squashed. Aria glared at him.

"What is the meaning of this? Coming here, unannounced-", Aria launched into what was going to be a colorful diatribe, but Aveline stood in the doorway with three other guardsmen. "Aveline?"

"I'm sorry Hawke, but it's urgent. You need to come to the Keep. Now. Good to see you had the sense to keep your armour handy," Aveline replied. "Fenris is welcome to join you."

At this Seneschal Brann heaved a weary sigh of contempt. Aria rounded on him again, but Aveline barked at her.

"Move!"

Aria decided she would do exactly that and jogged at the front of their little entourage. Aveline was forced to remain with the Seneschal. Fenris however ran right beside Aria, a good few paces ahead of the guardsmen. They went straight through the keep and up to the Viscount's office, since Aria was fairly certain that's who ordered her dragged out of bed.

"Serah Hawke," the Viscount greeted her from his desk. He motioned her to close the doors behind her, though she did so only once Fenris was also in the room. "It is not enough that the Qunari define my political life, they must also infect what I hold personal. It is my son, Seamus. The life you saved he would noW squander by converting to the Qun. He has left for the Qunari compound."

He stood and paced in front of the windows behind his desk for a moment, his movements vexed. His face was much gaunter than the last time she had seen him. Dumar's bright blue eyes seemed even brighter, lit with desperation.

"Please… Serah Hawke. Convince Seamus to come home."

"The Arishok says nothing good about Kirkwall; yet he accepts conversions?" Aria dubiously asked.

"I cannot understand it!" Viscount Dumar said, rubbing at his temples with his fingertips as though he had a harsh ache behind his eyes. "Maker knows I've tried! But he landed with what, a few hundred men? Add up the deaths and defections, and the Arishok must need to bolster his ranks. I'm sure my son is quite the symbolic prize," he bitterly stated at the end.

"Was he seen leaving for the compound?" Aria asked, wondering how well she'd have to conceal the boy if and when she brought him back.

"He made no secret of it," Dumar lamented. "I suppose he intended it as another one of his 'statements' about closer relations. Your example inspired him. I might agree, but now is not the time. These matters are…delicate."

"He's politically dangerous, you mean," Aria said then.

"The Office must remain strong, Serah Hawke."

"He is of age. The decision seems…rightly his," Aria played devil's advocate, not solely because her own views of freedom of choice wouldn't allow her any other course, but because she simply didn't want to ever have to go back to the Qunari compound again.

"I want…to let him find his way. But in my position… He's taken a great deal of inspiration from you. I want to allow his idealism, but not blindly. At best, my opponents will now claim that my office is in Qunari hands. At worst… I lose my son."

Aria sighed. He wasn't going to be dissuaded and she was going to have to go appeal to the bloody oxmen. Fanfuckingtastic. As if shit hadn't hit the fan quite enough the past few days.

"Just…try to make the Arishok see this only inflames the situation," Dumar continued when she was silent too long.

"He hasn't exactly been quick to see reason," Aria snarkily stated.

"It is a hope," the Viscount said with a weak smile. "I'm entitled to that, at least."

Aria nodded and turned to take her leave but the Viscount's voice stopped her once more.

"Serah Hawke, I don't want to appear…ungrateful or cruel. I am truly sorry to hear about what happened to your mother, and I wanted you to know, I ordered that Bethany be released into your care for a week's time. I'm terribly sorry to be putting you on the spot like this, but there is no one else I can trust with such grave matters."

Aria nodded over her shoulder at him and took her leave. At this point, she didn't bloody care what the Viscount thought or felt. She was trying to steel her nerves for dealing with the Arishok.

"I'll come with you. Serve as a buffer," Fenris offered as they tromped out of the Viscount's office. His knowledge of the Qun and the Qunari language were a priceless asset, one she was glad to have in her bag of tricks.

Seneschal Brann was just walking into his own office next to Dumar's when they emerged. He glared first at Aria, then at Fenris. "You could have a title and a seat in office, you know."

"I don't care for either of those things," Aria quipped.

"Of course not. You're too busy slumming with the knife ears," Brann muttered under his breath. Aria stopped cold and stalked silently up to his desk. He was oblivious to her, shuffling through the paperwork stacks that adorned the shining mahogany surface.

"Care to say that a little louder?" Aria softly stated, her words dripping cold fury.

"Pardon?" Brann innocently asked.

Aria grabbed him by the throat and lifted him over his desk until his feet dangled. "I'm tired of you privileged little pieces of shit looking down on me while I keep these frivolous things you hold so dear safe. Mind what you say. The next assassination plot I hear concerning your head…well I might just have to ignore it." She tossed him so that his back thudded into the wall and he slid down it, staring wide-eyed and terrified at her. "Go ahead, call your guards."

He shook his head.

"I didn't think so," Aria snarled, turning on her heel and walking out the door.

"I was only going to step in when it was clear you were going to kill him," Fenris rasped as they made their way toward the barracks.

"He needed to be put on his ass. Reminds him of how relatively useless he is in the grand scheme of things," Aria responded.

"A little humility is good for some people," Fenris wryly chuckled.

"Indeed. And Aveline is about to get her dose of it," Aria darkly stated, stalking faster.

"Hawke!" Varric's voice called then, and they waited for him to catch up. "I heard they busted into Fenris's estate after you."

"Aveline assured me she'd buy me a new door," Fenris jested.

"Did she now? That's…something," Varric dubiously stated.

"Well she hasn't yet. But I was hoping the thrashing Hawke is going to give her would include some sort of deal for repairs to damaged property," Fenris smoothly announced, looking over at Aria.

"Did they do that much damage to the door?" Aria asked, aghast. She hadn't exactly checked, herself. She'd been too angry at the lot of them when she stormed through it.

"It was off the hinges and in about six pieces," Fenris darkly replied.

"No doubt at Seneschal Brann's request," Aria griped. "I wouldn't be sad if I ever saw his head on a pike somewhere. Not going to lie."

"He isn't a very affable person, is he?" Varric laughed. "I hear he has a…special elf friend himself."

"Is that why he hates Fenris so much?" Aria queried, genuinely interested.

"I don't think he hates Fenris. I think he hates the fact that you have him," Varric clarified.

"Oh! I guess Brann does seem the type," Aria laughed, winking at Fenris.

"Ha-ha," Fenris deliberately laughed, his eyes squinted slightly with mock malice as he glared at Hawke.

"It's a compliment, you oaf," Aria giggled, her anger and fear dissipating greatly. "On second thought… Fuck Aveline. Thinks she can order me around like one of her patrols… I don't bloody think so. Let's go get this business with the Arishok over with. Varric, can you go get Anders and have him meet us at the docks?"

"Sure thing, Hawke," Varric said, bowing to both of them before immediately taking his leave.

Aria led Fenris to a furniture shop in Hightown not too far from his own house. She had him pick out a new set of front doors, then paid to have them installed right away. She kept the receipt of sale—she was going to issue it to Aveline and insist on going with her when she presented the accounts to Seneschal Brann. Just to rub the insult in. Barge in on her… Fenris's was supposed to be a place she went and no one followed. It was an unspoken agreement between their little fellowship. Aveline had broken it just so Aria could go play the Viscount's Bitch. Aria wasn't about to let that slide.

They met up with Varric and Anders at the docks an hour later. It was just past noon and Aria was hungry, on top of being a basket case. She _hated_ dealing with the damn Arishok. But at least this time, she was a little less scared than she was last time. She'd been through much worse, it seemed.

"Serah Hawke," the Arishok said as she approached, the other Qunari looking at her with much less disdain than they had in the past. It put Aria slightly more at ease. "What do you want?"

"Greetings Arishok," Aria brightly said, "I'm here about the Viscount's son."

"Are you?" the great, beast-like man with enormous bull-like horns on his huge grey and maroon head asked in amusement. "In four years, I have made no threat. And fanatics have lined up to hate us, simply because we exist. But despite lies and fear, bas still beg me to let them come to the Qun. They hunger for purpose. The son has made a choice. You will not deny him that."

Aria sighed and nodded her agreement. "He does make quite the prize doesn't he?"

"He is no prisoner," the Arishok purred in that deep, resounding baritone. "He is not even here."

"Then where might I find him? Just to talk of course," Aria hedged, anxiety building.

"He went to talk to his father. Ask the Viscount why he would send a letter and you both," the Arishok replied.

Aria had had this happen before. "Ungh. Where did the letter tell him to go, dare I ask?"

"They're meeting in the Chantry; a last, pointless appeal I assume," the Arishok said dismissively.

"The Viscount would involve the Chantry?" Anders asked then.

"No, he wouldn't," Fenris stated, his insight coming from their brief last meeting with the Viscount earlier that morning.

"No, but we certainly know who would," Aria growled.

"Mother Petrice," Varric snarled under his breath.

"A suspect in many things," the Arishok agreed. "If she has threatened someone under my command again, there is only one response."

"Yes well, not if I get to her first," Aria vowed.

"Justice, Hawke. That's all I ask," The Arishok answered. "Viddathari, those who were not born of but sought the Qun, are under my protection. This offense will demand an answer. I will be watching, Hawke."

"I respect your position, Arishok. I will see that justice is meted out," Aria said as he dismissed them with a wave.

"Where to first?" Varric asked as they hastily left the compound.

"The Viscount. He'll need to know the Mother has involved the Chantry," Aria crossly stated.

They jogged up through Lowtown and back into Hightown. It was good to have something to focus on, but worry nagged at Aria. Bethany wouldn't know where she was or what happened, and Aria hated to be away when she had so little time.

They walked past Seneschal Brann as they entered the Viscount's office. The man had the decency not to look up or acknowledge them.

"Your Excellency," Hawke started as soon as the door was closed. The Viscount stood where she last left him.

"Your tone does not fill me with hope, Serah Hawke," he replied, the corners of his mouth downturned in dismay. "Where is my son?"

"He received a letter at the compound, a letter supposedly from you," Aria informed him.

"I sent no such letter!" Dumar exclaimed. "I would have no need. Not with your assistance."

"I suspected as much," Aria gently stated. "It called him to the Chantry."

"Seamus is missing and the Chantry is involved?" the Viscount said, his hope further fading. "What am I supposed to do now? I can't be seen to move against them."

"Well you can't sit here while your son may be at risk," Aria countered, wishing for the thousandth time this man would just grow a pair already.

"You do not understand the fury it would cause if I sent armed guards to a house of worship. As much as the Chantry influences this office, I cannot be seen to do the reverse! Even…even at this cost. Please, Hawke, find him. You're the only option I have."

"Your Excellency, I cannot guarantee his safety. Mother Petrice has shown she will go to great lengths to provoke war with the Qunari," Aria warned him.

"Do what you must, Hawke," he resignedly stated. "Find him."

Aria bowed and the four of them ran to the Chantry. There were no services, and still flowers adorned the great halls in the wake of Leandra's funeral yesterday. The place seemed abandoned and it felt wrong to Aria. She unsheathed her daggers in anticipation. Seeing no one in the lower pews, Aria went up towards the pulpit and saw the form of a man kneeling. As she approached, she saw that it was Seamus. She reached out to touch him, softly calling his name, but his body fell over and she saw his throat had been cut.

Cursing, she stood and started looking around for the culprits, who undoubtedly were watching. She didn't have to wait long. Petrice emerged, looking up at her with smug indifference.

"Serah Hawke, look at what you have done!" the slippery charlatan announced, several guards behind her. "To pounce upon the Viscount's son, a repentant convert in the Chantry itself! A crime with no excuse. Your Qunari masters will finally answer."

"Oh please," Aria interjected then, rolling her eyes. "This reeks of set-up and the Viscount already knows you're behind it. This is low, even for you, Petrice."

"He deliberately denied the Maker," Mother Petrice shot back. "How many would follow if he went unpunished? And yet, even this sympathiser will inspire vengeance when his brutal murder is exposed."

"Do you understand what you have just done, you fucking moron?" Aria roared at her. "This isn't going to get the Qunari out of Kirkwall! You've just started a war, a war where innocent people will die! The slaughter is on _your_ hands, Petrice. Not mine."

"To die untested would be the real crime," Mother Petrice fired back. "People need the opportunity to defend faith! Starting with you. Faithful! The Maker calls on you now! Earn your reward in this life and the next! These heretics must die!" Mother Petrice howled then.

"Riiiight, no rest for the wicked," Aria balefully stated.

"That went well," Varric glibly added, nocking a triplet of bolts onto Bianca and taking out two of the peasants Mother Petrice sent to do her dirty work.

They launched into battle, which wasn't all that much of a challenge. Petrice sent peasants and green-horn guards at seasoned, battle-tested warriors. It was a slaughter Aria was reluctant to join. For the most part, she did her best to simply disarm and render those who attacked her unconscious, not dead.

They cornered Petrice on the landing and stopped when Grand Cleric Elthina made an appearance.

"Do you see, Your Grace?" Petrice shrilly cried, pointing at Aria and her companions. "Traitors attacking the very core of the Chantry. They defile with every step!"

Aria rolled her eyes and Varric spat on the ground next to her. Behind her, Fenris sighed angrily and Anders just glared at the wayward Mother.

"There is death in every corner, young Mother. It is as you predicted, all too well," Grand Cleric Elthina said as she stepped towards Hawke, her eyes benevolent.

Aria bowed slightly, then looked over at Petrice. "She suspects you, Petrice. Quick, lie harder."

"Don't you spout your Qunari filth!" Mother Petrice snapped at Aria. "This is a hand of the Divine!"

"I have ears, Mother Petrice," Elthina coldly interjected, her grey eyes icy as they regarded the younger matron. "The Maker would have me use them."

"Viscount Dumar's son is dead, killed here in your name," Aria informed Elthina.

"I'm sure my name won't like that. Petrice?" Elthina said then, turning back to the errant member of her flock.

"Seamus Dumar was a Qunari convert. He came here to repent and was murdered!" Mother Petrice spoke half the truth.

"It's a ruse, Your Grace. Seamus was killed to set the people against the Qunari," Aria interjected.

"This is no longer a matter of heathens squatting in the dark!" Petrice exclaimed, her voice hinting at desperation. "People are leaving us to join them!"

"And we must pray for them, like any other," Grand Cleric Elthina gently rebuffed.

"They deny the Maker!" Petrice said with genuine conviction, a zealot's blinkered, myopic view of the world.

"And you diminish him, even as you claim his side!" Elthina rounded on Petrice. "Andraste did not volunteer for the flame," she added, then turned to Aria. "Serah Hawke, you stand with the Captain of the Guard?"

Aria nodded. "I can send for her."

Grand Elthina also nodded. "The young Mother has erred in her judgment. The court will decide her fate. The Chantry respects the law, and so must she," Elthina addressed this last bit to Petrice, then silently started back up the stairs.

"Grand Cleric?" Petrice heartbrokenly entreated. "Grand Cleric?!"

Elthina did not turn back as she continued her ascent up the steps. Petrice turned to glare at Hawke, but a split second later, an arrow of Qunari branding buried itself through her sternum. Aria turned to see one of the Qunari soldiers standing in the shadows. He drew another arrow and sent this one between Petrice's eyes as she fell to her knees.

"We protect those of the Qun," the soldier said as he faced Hawke. "We do _not_ abandon our own."

They all watched the Qunari soldier leave the Chantry. No one followed, for he had done what none of them could. He'd rendered justice, and not a one of them were going to fault him for it.

"Please," Grand Cleric's voice sounded again, and Aria turned to face her. "Send for Viscount Dumar."

Aria bowed and looked over at Varric and Anders. "Anders, you need to go. This might get ugly, now that the Chantry and by extension, the templars, are involved. Varric, get Aveline and have her bring the Viscount."

Anders and Varric hastily made their exit while Fenris and Aria went back up to the altar next to which Seamus's body rested. Aria sighed and repositioned him so that he looked at peace, his hands over his chest, his eyes closed.

Viscount Dumar ran in a mere ten minutes later, with Varric and Aveline right behind him. His eyes landed on the body of his son and he collapsed next to the young man, cradling his head in his lap.

"My son… Murdered in the heart of the Chantry by those who held a sacred trust," Dumar bitterly wept. "What hope for this city, when we fail our own so completely?"

"The Arishok is still here, Excellency," Aria said as gently as she could. "Kirkwall needs you ready to face him."

"I cannot!" Dumar sobbed, cradling his son closer. "I have already failed where it mattered most." He lost his voice in the wake of his grief. Aria felt his pain as her own. She knew what that kind of failure felt like. It took all the joy out of life. It made everything else one did seem…futile and unimportant. "Please," Dumar sobbed again when Aria was silent. "Leave me."

Aria bowed and sadly strode out of the Chantry, her heart heavy and her mind whirling. It made her sick to her stomach. There would no doubt be war with the Qunari after this. Her mind turned to Bethany then, and seeing how fragile life was yet again, it spurred Aria into a run. She wasn't going to miss out on a second more. Her sister was all that mattered today.

"Hawke!" Aveline's voice sounded behind her.

Fenris chuckled. "Shall I be the mediator?" he said low so only Aria could hear.

"No. I'll handle it," Aria replied, kissing him on the cheek before she rounded on Aveline. "Guard-Captain, I'm not in the mood to talk right now. This is your only warning."

Aveline stopped a few paces from her, reading the fury that radiated from Aria's eyes. "They ordered you brought in."

"I wasn't aware that I was on retainer. I wasn't aware that I answered to the Guard, or even to the Viscount. I'm not a puppet to do everyone's bidding," Aria shot down her excuse. "And by the way," she said, fishing into her pocket for the bill of sale. "I need to be reimbursed for that little stunt." She tossed the paper at Aveline, not even bothering to see if she picked it up.

Fenris looked back at Aveline for a moment as Aria stalked away. The Guard-Captain sighed and picked up the bill of sale.

"I'm sorry, Fenris. Seneschal Brann—"

"Is a twit. Next time, if I don't answer, just assume I'm not home. And also assume that Aria isn't there as well. If he makes one more snide comment about how our involvement is hindering her advancement in Kirkwall political and social circles, he may have a sudden massive heart attack."

Aveline grunted in exasperation and trudged back up the steps to the Keep. Fenris jogged to catch up to Aria.

When they reached the Hawke estate, most of the lamps had been lit. It was early evening and the sun was just beginning to set on the western horizon. A few people on evening strolls waved greetings to them, a surprise to both Fenris and Aria.

Bodahn opened the door as soon as he heard the scuff of their boots on the steps. "Mistress Hawke! So glad to see you've returned! Mistress Bethany has been so worried," Bodahn cheerily greeted them, taking their cloaks and weapon.

Bethany and Gamlen both rushed to greet Aria. Gamlen even shook Fenris's hand in greeting. Bethany hugged him. Aria almost laughed at the obvious discomfort this all caused him, but he handled it gracefully.

"We've had so many visitors today," Bethany said as Aria sat down and started unlacing her boots.

"I don't doubt it; many things happened today," Aria grunted in reply.

"Supper's just about ready," Orana said then as she popped her head in from the dining room. "Welcome home, Mistress, Ser," she greeted them both before disappearing again.

"Fantastic! I'm famished," Aria gratefully exclaimed, kicking off the boot she'd just finished unlacing and started in on the other.

"So? What news?" Gamlen asked.

"Well, I'm not going to lie, it's bad," Aria replied. "A Mother in the Chantry lured the Viscount's boy into the Chantry and murdered him. Tried to frame me in the process, but she was a poor conspirator. Oh, and…this nice little turn of events will probably lead to all-out war with the Qunari. The Viscount has officially checked out of reality and now exists wallowing in his own failures, so… No one's really in charge at this point."

"Sweet Andraste!" Gamlen cried. "Are you sure?"

"Well no. But from the signs I'm reading, and I've been up close and personal with them, that's what it's all pointing to," Aria said, kicking the other boot off.

"It is indeed," Fenris added for Gamlen and Bethany's benefit. "The Arishok grows restless and he's like to replenish his waning ranks with whatever people he can find."

"Why doesn't he just _leave_ already?!" Bethany groused, picking up Aria's boots and setting them next to the hearth. She wrinkled her nose.

"Shut up. I've been busy," Aria spoke to her expression.

"That is the million-sovereign question," Fenris said, a slight, cocky smile turning up the corners of his lips on one side of his terribly delicious mouth.

"Blight take them all," Gamlen growled.

"Serah Hawke?" one of the templar jailors that shadowed Bethany asked then. Aria recognized him immediately as Ser Kerran, a former templar recruit who Aria had saved from becoming an abomination her first year in Kirkwall.

"Kerran! I'm sorry, I didn't recognize you at first," Aria chirped and walked over to him. They gripped forearms in greeting.

"It is a pleasure to see you again. If I may," Kerran said, looking between them all. "I would like to relay this information to the Knight-Commander. If the situation is as dangerous as you say, it would behoove you and improve our chances at survival to have the templars ready for battle."

"I don't know if it's quite going to come to that," Aria back pedaled slightly, "But if you think it would help, by all means, go."

"Right away, messere," Kerran said, bowing slightly. He looked over at his slightly wide-eyed companion. "The Hawkes are good folk. No harm will come to you. I'll return as quickly as possible."

"What's your name, lad?" Aria asked the other guard once Kerran had made his exit.

"Gerrault," the young man said with the slight hint of an Orlesian accent. Aria fought the shudder that went up her spine. She hated Orlesians.

"Well, Ser Gerrault, would you like to join us for supper?" Aria asked him as she made for the stairs.

"That's very kind of you, messere. Indeed I would," the young man replied in earnest. He was very tall, wiry of build, and he had vivid blue eyes under a dark mop of coal-black hair. His skin was dark from many days spent training in the sun.

"Well alright then," Aria grinned, her gaze meeting Bethany's, who was beaming. "Go ahead and get yourselves seated; I'm going to freshen up."

It occurred to Aria as she entered her room that she'd left Fenris alone with her family. It also occurred to her that he was having supper with them, something he hadn't done before. Despite the overwhelming sadness she'd justifiably felt the past couple of days following Mother's gruesome death, her spirit was high. Her house felt like a home tonight, something that had never really occurred to her in the few years she'd lived here.

Aria changed into a night gown suitable for being around family and donned her fine robe over it. She noted that the kettles were full of water and waiting next to the hearth. Smiling, Aria put them on the hooks above the coals before she went down and joined everyone.

As she walked into the dining room, laughter and conversation greeted her ears. The sight before her was even better. A beautiful roast turkey sat at the center of the great table, flanked all around by platters of freshly baked bread, some baked beans with Orana's signature sauce, blankets of greens, and a cheese tray laden with a Thedas taste tour. Three different wines occupied the flagons around the table. A few casserole dishes were present as well, no doubt left by the nicer nobles.

Aria sat at the head of the table, Fenris to her right, Bethany to her left, and she tucked in to the meal heartily. Kerran returned just as Gamlen started to carve the turkey and was delighted when Aria demanded he join them.

They ate, chattering about common Kirkwall gossip. They speculated about the fate of the city, but Aria noticed one thing: They all had hope. It made her smile to herself. And then, she looked around the table after the first and second courses were done, and it occurred to her that right here, right now, templars broke bread with mages, elves and dwarves sat as equals, and most precious of all, she had her family around her.

When Orana brought the decadent chocolate cake out for dessert, Aria had to excuse herself. She was full and tired, and that bath water upstairs was probably boiling. Bethany followed her, along with her now not-so-silent guards, chatting away about people in the circle.

"Let me get that, Hawke," Kerran said as Aria went to the hearth.

"A templar preparing my bath? It is a strangely wonderful day indeed," Aria laughed as she allowed him to lug the heavy kettles over to the tub.

"We'll step outside. Let us know when you are finished," Gerrault said when Kerran put the empty kettles next to the hearth once more.

"Actually, I think tonight I'm going to…sleep in Mother's room," Bethany said. "You've had a long day, sister, and I don't want to keep you from your creature comforts."

"Are you sure, Bethany?" Aria asked, unnerved by the thought of entering her mother's room. It just felt…wrong to her.

"Yes. I like Mother's room. It's…peaceful and comforting," Bethany sweetly replied. "Good night, sister."

Aria strode over and hugged her. "Good night, sister."

Bethany went across the hall and into Mother's room, her templar escort followed. She closed the door and Aria decided the water in her bath needed to cool. She went back downstairs and found Bodahn, Fenris, and Gamlen playing Wicked Grace in the study.

Aria took a bottle of wine from the wine rack next to the book case and settled herself on the dais by the fire. She watched them play, joining in on their conversations about women, battles, and drinking where appropriate until Bodahn took his leave. Gamlen went to the guest bedroom shortly after that, leaving Aria and Fenris alone together.

"That was a…surprisingly pleasant evening," Fenris said as he sat next to her on the dais. He took the bottle as she offered it and drank deeply before passing it back.

"Indeed it was," Aria happily sighed. "What a crazy day."

"Your bath is probably getting cold," Fenris said then.

"You could always do your brand thing and warm back up for me," Aria teased, finishing the bottle of the wine.

"I could…" Fenris replied. "But others might talk."

"Sod them all. They broke into your mansion to drag me out of your bed this morning. I think it's no longer a secret," Aria laughed.

"Oh the scandal," Fenris mockingly stated.

Aria lightly kicked him and he pinned her to the dais, the empty bottle falling to the floor with a resounding clatter. She laughed again and he rolled so that they lay facing each other on their sides. He tucked a flyaway behind her ear.

"It was nice to get out of the dark, hopelessness that plagues me for a while," she said after a moment.

"But it's returned?" Fenris softly rasped, his fingers tracing lazy patterns up the outside of her thigh under her robe.

"Not yet, but I know that…when I wake in the morning, we could very well be at war with the Qunari."

"They are few in number. Yes, the destruction will probably be devastating, since we know they have Gaatlok… But ultimately, Kirkwall will win."

"That's rare," she giggled then, playfully nipping the tip of his nose.

"What?" he indignantly chuckled.

"You being an optimist."

Fenris grunted at this. "I'm a realist. And realistically, we'll still win. They're powerful, but this city has you, that cantankerous Guard-Captain, a Circle of Magi, a psychotic Knight-Commander, and a crazy elven blood mage. The Qunari won't win."

"You forgot the broody Tevinter elf with a penchant for wielding a greatsword and heartbreakingly handsome face."

He chuckled at this. "I'll never understand what you see in me, but I'm grateful for it all the same."

"Bathe with me, and I'll show you what I see," she saucily whispered.

"An offer I cannot in good conscience refuse," he rasped, kissing her hotly on the mouth.


	38. Chapter THIRTY-SEVEN

**Chapter 37**

The next morning, just before dawn, Aria woke, but didn't know why. She laid there, her head on Fenris's chest. She heard his heartbeat thudding slowly and his breathing was deep. He was certainly still asleep. She listened to the rest of the house intently, trying still to figure out why she'd woken up.

There was a rapping on the front door, softly echoing through the sleeping halls of her estate after a moment. She carefully moved so as not to disturb Fenris and donned her robe. Aria went first to her window to see if she could identify the visitor. To her dismay and fury, several templars stood outside her door, with Ser Cullen at the lead.

Aria padded silently down the stairs and answered the quiet summons herself, bristling with hot anger the entire way.

"Serah Hawke, I'm…terribly sorry to wake you at this unfortunate hour, but given the events that transpired yesterday…"

"You're here to take Bethany back to the Circle. Just say it," Aria crossly stated. "I have lost my Father. I have lost my brother. I have lost my Mother, and now, you've come once again, to take away my sister."

Cullen's eyes were genuinely sad as he nodded his affirmative to her statement. Aria felt badly for the man; he was good, he just served a master who hadn't yet realized she was evil.

"Hawke, I don't want to do this. I can't possibly begin to fathom how you must feel, but I must uphold the law. There is great fear that war is imminent, and the Knight-Commander does not wish a mage to be brought onto the battlefield."

"Without chains, you mean," Aria snorted.

"Pardon?" Cullen asked, not quite understanding the comment. Or perhaps he was trying to goad Hawke into action. She didn't entirely rise to the bait, if that was the case.

"She doesn't want a mage to enter the battlefield—unless she is in control of them," Aria clarified, leaning against the door jamb, her arms crossed over her chest.

"One warring faction is too much as it is," Cullen diplomatically replied.

"You have two templars inside, so she's in no danger of slipping away. Give me an hour to say good bye," Aria said then.

"Very well, Serah. One hour."

"And you needn't bring an entire garrison with you. I'm not going to fight you, and neither will Bethany. This show of force is insulting," Aria spat back at him, closing her door before he could reply.

When she turned to go back into the living quarters of her estate, she saw Fenris standing just inside the parlor that stood after the foyer. His eyes swirled with sadness and anger.

"They have some nerve," he bitterly stated as Aria walked up to him.

"I'm not going to kill the messenger. Cullen is a good man," Aria numbly stated, her eyes going to the landing. She did not want to wake Bethany. She didn't want to let her go. It was cruel, both to her and her sister. "This is going to crush her. How can she go back to that Maker-forsaken place so soon when she's been so happy here?"

"Because she is a Hawke, and Hawkes don't lie down and give up when the world knocks them to their knees," Fenris whispered next to her ear.

"No, they just keep standing and taking it," Aria replied, allowing him to draw her to him.

"They take it when they have to, and get even when they can," he chuckled. "She's alive, Aria. And you've made the Circle a less…inhospitable place to live, recently. She will be fine, and so will you."

"I may be fine, but I don't have to be happy about it," Aria groused, leading him towards the stairs. "Let's get this over with. We're wasting precious time."

Bethany didn't get angry. She didn't cry. She simply got out of bed when Aria woke her, and donned one of the new sets of robes Aria had given her. While Bethany dressed, Fenris fetched Bodahn and Orana to start making breakfast. Aria woke Gamlen, and they all convened in the dining room fifteen minutes later.

"This is…infuriating," Gamlen said as they sat down to fresh fruit and toasted bread for their breakfast. Orana was still in the kitchen cooking the eggs.

"It will be all right, Uncle," Bethany said, grasping his hand from across the table. "I will be fine. The Knight-Commander does have a point."

"And what point is that?" Gamlen crossly asked, spearing a strawberry and popping it into his mouth.

"If the Qunari do attack, having all of the mages ready to fight could turn the tide immediately into Kirkwall's favor," Bethany reasonably answered.

"Why do we have to give any more to this city? It's bad enough they have your sister running around doing all their dirty work and constantly risking her neck, while their scum murdered my sister… And they have the audacity to put you in chains," Gamlen replied. "Hasn't this family done enough for Kirkwall?"

They all were silent at this, Aria simply listening to the tete a tete between them for the time being, but then she decided to speak.

"If the Qunari do attack, or if Petrice's harebrained scheming provokes the simpletons into attacking the Qunari, Bethany will be safest within the walls of the Gallows. It's a position that is defensible and necessary to Kirkwall's survival."

Gamlen gaped at Aria in shock. "You would willingly send her back?"

"I would willingly put her some place where she would be safe, Uncle," Aria gently stated. "Now, I forbid any more talk of templars and Qunari at this table. We have but minutes left together. Let's spend them celebrating the fact that we are still here, and for the moment, we are together."

Bethany leaned over and hugged her sister, then planted a kiss on her cheek. "I love you, and this wise woman you've become."

Aria returned the hug and spooned a pineapple chunk into her mouth. Orana appeared then with an enormous skillet of freshly cooked scrambled eggs. They tucked in to their meal in silence. Aria hoped Sers Kerran and Gerrault would inform the Knight-Commander of her stance, so that the overbearing woman would go easier on Bethany than she had in the past.

All too soon, however, the bell pull rang. Aria walked with Bethany and her templar guards to the front door. Ser Cullen and one other templar stood there, much to Aria's surprise. It was an unexpected olive branch, and she didn't intend to squander it.

"Serah Hawke," Cullen said with a bow as she opened the door. He nodded to Bethany.

"Do be good to her. She's all I have left," Aria quietly stated. She hugged Bethany one last lingering time and managed to stem the tears that threatened to form in her eyes as they took her away. Aria watched them go, waving and offering her best heartfelt smile before they turned the corner out of sight. Bethany returned the gesture.

"I don't suppose you'd let me remain a while, perhaps until this whole mess with impending war is over?" Gamlen asked then, trying to hide his own tears.

"You're welcome to stay as long as you like, Uncle. I probably won't be here much anymore," Aria bitterly replied, walking past him and Fenris as she returned to her estate.

Varric's nickname for Bethany, Sunshine, was all too correct. The mansion felt as though night had fallen upon it, even as day broke over it. The heaviness in her heart returned and she fought desperately for something to do and lighten the burden.

"Let's get out of Kirkwall for the day," Fenris suggested as he followed her back to her room.

"That sir, is a fine suggestion," Aria replied.

"I'll need to run home and fetch a change of clothes… Meet me at the gates in an hour?"

"Deal," she answered his query.

He pulled her to him and kissed her sweetly, and when he moved away he gently cupped her face in his hands. "She'll be safer there."

"I know," Aria said in response, covering his hands with hers. "But I still don't have to like it."

He chuckled and withdrew. "I'll see you in an hour."

But Aria didn't make it out of her house. As she tightened her belt and sheathed her freshly honed daggers, courtesy of Sandal, Aveline and Isabela all but burst down her door. They both shouldered inside, Isabela finally managing to dart ahead of the much bigger woman.

"What in the bloody name of the Maker…" Aria yelled at them.

"This is important!" Aveline boomed at Isabela as they ran into the living room. "Don't interrupt with your selfish prattle!"

"Get off your high horse! I have problems too," Isabela fired back, then turned to Hawke.

"Ha!" Aveline sneered, shoving the rogue brusquely. "'What drink I should order' and 'Who's the father?'"

"Oh you little…" Isabela stormed, stalking the Guard-Captain as she raised her hand to strike.

"I'm too sober for this," Aria groaned, then walked over and sat at the desk near the hearth. She poured herself a shot.

"Hawke!" Aveline shouted in shock. "What in the name of the Maker are you doing?"

"Preparing for the world to end," Aria bluntly replied, downing the shot and pouring herself another. She looked to Isabela, indicating the bottle with a questioning look on her face. Isabela nodded and Aria poured a second shot. They drank them together then turned back to Aveline. Aria grimaced and took a long swig from the bottle, wincing painfully as the liquor burned all the way to her belly. "You were saying?"

"This isn't funny, Hawke! This is serious!" Aveline bellowed, moving to snatch the bottle from Aria's hands. Aria unsheathed a dagger and held it to the Guard-Captain's wrist before Aveline could finish her intention. Aria took another swig when Aveline backed away, the tall red-head shaking her head.

"Out with it. Final chance," Aria admonished, returning the dagger to her back.

"The Arishok is harbouring two fugitives who 'converted' to the Qun. He must be convinced to release them," Aveline pleaded then.

Aria took another drink.

Aveline looked horrified, but continued. "He must be convinced to release them," she repeated as if Aria hadn't heard her the first time.

"Um… You did see the dead body of a Mother last night, right? You know, the one who killed a convert of the Qun?" Aria asked bitterly.

"The Arishok's already feared because of Petrice. If people start to think he can ignore the law… I need your help so this doesn't get out of hand," Aveline entreated.

Aria rolled her eyes. Two doses of the Arishok in two days? Maker, when had her life been so joyous, she thought sarcastically.

"I'm going to die!" Isabela cut in then, before Aria could respond. "There. Got your attention? Real problem."

"I heard 'Arishok' and 'die'…" Aria scoffed, taking yet another drink that was the equivalent of two shots.

"Remember the relic?" Isabela hastily stated before Aveline could utter another word, taking the shot Hawke poured for her. "The one Castillon is going to kill me over? A man called Wall-Eyed Sam has it."

Aria set the bottle down. "I thought…didn't we… Oh wait, we didn't kill that guy. Must have been some other lout after you. How's your friend's business in the Hanged Man? We set him up nice and proper with his…'legitimate' goods."

"Aria I'm serious!" Isabela cried then in unnervingly uncharacteristic helplessness. "If you help me get it, Castillon won't kill me. Please!"

"I'm trying to keep the entire city from rioting against Qunari!" Aveline butt in, squaring off with the pirate rogue.

Aria rolled her eyes again and finished the rest of the bottle in one heroic swig.

"Well…maybe it's connected," Isabela said then.

"What?!" Aveline fumed.

"Nope, still sober." Aria needed another bottle. She got up and went over to the wine rack, looking for the little bottle of Hanged Man moonshine she had stashed for desperate times. She found it, uncorked it, and returned to her seat. She took another drink, grimacing as it went down.

"I'm just saying, maybe it will help," Isabela replied, lifting an eyebrow at Aria's actions. "It's important to someone, right?"

Aveline glowered at both of them. She lifted one brawny arm, her fingers rubbing at her temple. "Now you start being responsible?" she said to Isabela. "Shit."

They both turned to Aria then, looking expectantly at her. Aria took another staggeringly impressive drink from the bottle.

"Urngh," Aria groaned. She corked the bottle and set it on the table. "You want me to go now, make a decision _right now_? I am going out of town with Fenris today."

"No, you're certainly not," Aveline rebuffed. "We've got to get this in hand."

Aria glared at the Guard-Captain. "I'm sorry, I'm not understanding how you get to order me around. I'm not a guard. I'm not under any employ of the city at all. This sounds like an issue for you and your guards. Take a lot of them."

"Sending a full patrol would just increase tension. But you're right. I am the Captain, and it is my responsibility. However, I suspect the Viscount was hoping I would bring this to you," Aveline replied.

"Then he should have come himself!" Aria snarled.

"Perhaps. But it's understandable that he is not at his best. I'm going to help him, if I can."

"It's understandable he's not at his best," Aria retorted. "But I'm never allowed to not be at my best? The Viscount lost his son. I've lost my _whole _family." Aria didn't wait for a response to that and turned to Isabela. "Why has this come up so suddenly, Isabela?"

"Sam's been talking to Black Market dealers all over Lowtown. It didn't take me long to get wind of it. What frustrates me is that he's held onto the relic so long," Isabela replied.

"Who's involved in this exchange?" Aria reluctantly asked, the effects of the alcohol beginning to surface. She felt tingly.

"Tevinter mages," Isabela proffered. "I doubt they'll look kindly on us interrupting. Bring a sword. Or twelve."

"And…who is this Wall-Eyed Sam bloke?" Aria queried. She stood and started to pace.

"Sam used to run with Martin, that fellow at the Hanged Man with his 'legitimate' goods. Martin says Sam is a big of a magpie, picking up things that don't belong to him. Not a trustworthy sort. When Martin gave up raiding, Sam became a drifter," Isabela answered.

Aria stopped pacing and rested her arm on the mantle of the fireplace. She lowered her head to the cool stone and closed her eyes. "You're sure this is the relic you're after?"

"I've had my ear to the ground for a while. There was a description of the book. It's the right one," Isabela replied.

Aria's head shot up and she turned to face the other rogue. "Book? I thought you didn't know what the relic was?"

Isabela looked extremely uncomfortable with this rare slip-up. "Well… I… I know it's a book. But that's all I know. It's written in a foreign tongue. Honestly, what does it matter?" she sought to cover up her mistake. "It'll save me from Castillon, so I need it."

Aria sighed and turned her focus on Aveline for the moment. "Isn't it odd that someone would run to the Qunari?"

"They're elves accused of murder," Aveline helpfully answered. "Maybe they feel they've nothing to lose by leaving the alienage."

"And if their conversion is genuine?" Aria countered, ever playing the devil's advocate.

"I…don't know," Aveline uncomfortably said. "But how many more will try if I allow this? Justice must be respected."

"So, you're expecting trouble?" Aria asked.

Aveline looked at her as though she were daft. "After what happened with the Viscount's son, yes. I'm hoping the Qunari aren't looking for a fight. I'm hoping they'll be reasonable. But we'll see," she dejectedly stated.

Aria looked between the both of them, then went back to pacing for a moment. When she stopped, she leveled her gaze on Aveline.

"The Qunari and the elves aren't going anywhere right now, are they?"

"Not right this instant, no. And the Qunari don't show any intent of leaving at all. _That_ is the real threat, Hawke."

"Well that settles it then," Aria said, straightening her dagger belt that rested between her shoulders. "Let's see about this relic. Hopefully it can be of some help, as you think it may," she said to Isabela.

"You trust her this much?" Aveline incredulously asked.

"Probably not," Isabela said, casting a wary glance at Hawke. "I wouldn't."

"I really do hope this helps," Aveline scathingly directed the words at Aria. "Because if it doesn't—"

"You really think I like having this thing on my mind?" Isabela interjected. "The exchange is happening at noon, in a Lowtown foundry." She left then, casting one more glare back at Aveline before she disappeared out the front door.

"Hawke—" Aveline started to say, but Aria cut her off with the wave of her hand.

"Don't. Just…don't. As soon as we're done getting the relic back, we'll deal with the Qunari."

"I'm not helping Isabela—"

"I'm not asking you to, don't worry. I'll come get you when I'm ready to go head to head with the Arishok. _Again_," Aria stressed that last word through gritted teeth. "Go. Now. Before I decide neither of you is worth my bloody time."

Aveline thankfully left without so much as a backward glance. She slammed the door rather hard. Aria slumped back into the recliner near the hearth and took another swig off the bottle of Hanged Man moonshine. She stared angrily into the coals in the hearth.

When would she _ever_ get to live a life of her own? Father was gone. Carver was gone. Mother was gone. Bethany was as good as gone. She had Fenris. She had wealth. What was to stop her from leaving now, and just never returning? Maybe she and Fenris could go to Tevinter… Pay Danarius a little visit.

As if her brooding summoned him, Fenris walked through the door. Aria turned to face him, lifted the bottle in salute, and took another drink. He shook his head, his keen, sparkling green eyes lit with the fires of fury. Ah, so he'd heard, Aria deduced.

"Do you think this city would last a day without you?" he growled, taking the bottle as she offered it and draining half of its remaining contents in one go.

"I'm beginning to realize I don't bloody well care what happens to this Maker-damned city," Aria replied.

"You chose to help Isabela over Aveline?"

"No, I made a tactical decision. Isabela said the relic might help with the Qunari issue. It's worth a shot, at least. Two birds, one stone. And Aveline has gotten far too comfortable with ordering me around. I'm weary of it."

"She does tend to tantrum if she isn't getting her way," Fenris rasped. He handed the bottle back to Aria, but she waved him away, indicating to him by a nod of her head that the rest was his, should he want it. He emptied the bottle in two more swigs and whipped the bottle into the hearth. The coals momentarily blazed and a shower of sparks erupted in its wake, shards of glass littering the coals like glowing red diamonds.

"We have to be at the foundry in Lowtown at noon," Aria informed him.

"We being whom?"

"We'll pick up Anders, Varric, and Isabela first."

"I had feared as much. Come. Let's get this over with," he sighed in lamentation.

"Bloody hell," Aria snarled, following him out the door.


	39. Chapter THIRTY-EIGHT

**Chapter 38**

It didn't take much convincing to get Anders and Varric involved. The lost-cause case of Isabela was something Anders couldn't refuse and Varric was always up for a good tale of intrigue and treachery. When they reached the foundry, however, they had a Qunari squadron to deal with.

"Halt! You will surrender the relic!" one of the leaders of the group of Qunari bellowed to them as they walked up.

"I don't have your stupid relic," Isabela exasperatedly responded.

"The bas has no honor! Kill it!" the Qunari squad leader shouted.

"Just once. I'd like to visit a Lowtown foundry and not have to kill anyone," Aria groaned, unsheathing her daggers.

"It's a foundry, Hawke. They're all the same. Killing people is the only highlight to being here," Varric dead-panned next to her, launching a hail of arrows into the Qunari's ranks.

Aria sneered in response and jumped into the fray where Fenris and Isabela were already engaged. A Sten soldier Qunari singled Aria out for combat and drove her away from the rest of the fighting. Aria nimbly evaded his attacks with the spear he wielded. She lashed him across the back of his leg, hamstringing him. When he fell, she drove her dagger through his skull and was on to the next.

The skirmish didn't last long. Their party was just as big as that of the Qunari. It wasn't a fair fight really; most of these Qunari youngsters had never seen a real battle. Proud and skilled as they were, they were no match for the baptised-by-fire, seasoned-by-combat competency that every single one of Aria's companions possessed.

As Aria surveyed the damage done, Isabela paced around the dead Qunari, her expression worrisome. It didn't suit the rogue pirate renegade. Aria tried to lighten the mood.

"If the Arishok asks why we killed his men, we'll say it was an accident," Aria sarcastically chimed, walking towards the foundry steps once more.

"Er…yes," Isabela said, straightening to look Hawke in the eyes. "About that. The relic belongs to the Qunari, and there's a small chance they might want it back.

Aria was aghast. "Do the Qunari look like sharing types to you? Of course they want it back!" Aria boomed.

"I've a confession to make, Aria. Because you're my friend. My best friend, in fact. I knew all along what the relic was. I didn't want to…worry you, what with all that's gone on recently—"

"The point, Isabela. Get to it," Aria crossly interjected. Anders chuckled behind her.

"Right. Well, the relic is a Qunari handwritten text by that philosopher of theirs… Keslan, Cousland… Whatever his name is," Isabela gushed uncomfortably.

"Koslun?" Fenris rasped in his velvet over crushed diamond voice. He spoke as though he knew a great deal about the subject and he seemed both intrigued and angered.

"That's the one!" Isabela replied, brightening.

"The founder of their religion? The most revered being in their _history_? That text would be sacred beyond measure!" Fenris retorted, disgusted with the level of ignorance Isabela displayed.

"I stole it from them, they followed me here to reclaim it. And that's why they're still in Kirkwall," Isabela returned fire.

Aria rubbed at her temples for a moment, working hard to quell the sudden rage that threatened to overtake her. She fought the itching in her fingers that desired them to wrap around Isabela's pretty, dusky throat and squeeze til the lights went out of her chameleon-esque eyes.

"And they can't leave without it!" Aria finally managed. "All of this could have been avoided!"

Isabela winced at the chill in Hawke's tone and she looked as though she were but a child, a child being reprimanded severely.

Aria softened slightly. "How did you nick the relic from the Qunari?"

"The Arishok never had it," Isabela clarified. "The Orlesians did."

"Figures," Aria snorted. "The Orlesians have their sticky little fingers in everyone's pies."

Isabela continued. "They had plans to return it to the Qunari. I simply had to waylay the Orlesian convoy before it met up with the Arishok and his men. Getting the relic was easy. Getting away from the Qunari was the hard part."

Seeing holes in Isabela's many tales, Aria was reluctant to believe all of this just yet. "I thought you and the Qunari were caught in a storm."

"The storm was only half of it," Isabela replied. "I also had the Qunari dreadnought stuck to my behind like a bad rash, spitting fire and thunder at me."

"It seems the relic would be useless to the Tevinters. It's a Qunari religious text—it only has meaning to them," Aria mused aloud, though she knew a text like that could be worth quite the pretty penny in the right hands. Or the ultimate insult to the Qunari. Maker knew the Tevinters were especially good at that.

"The Tevinter Imperium has been at war with the Qunari for centuries. If the Tevinters get the relic, it will strike a blow to Qunari morale. That's probably what the mages want," Isabela confirmed Aria's suspicions.

"If we get it back, there's the chance we could kill two birds with one stone. Resolve Aveline's upstanding issue with the Arishok, and get the damned horn-heads to leave," Aria suggested.

"That's the wisest course of action," Fenris agreed.

"I'm for it," Varric chimed in.

"Having less of a population that would see mages gagged and bound and whipped? Yes please," Anders said from beside Varric.

"I need it so I can stay living! Castillon will kill me!" Isabela pleaded.

"_Venhedis!_" Fenris spat then turning away to punch the wall behind him. "Do you ever care about anyone but yourself!?"

"If I don't, who will?" Isabela yelled at him.

"This isn't helping," Aria wearily stated then, rubbing at her temples.

"Look," Isabela sighed. "The book is in this building. I'm not letting it slip away again," she said, her voice taking a deathly serious timbre.

Fenris snorted but didn't say anything, his back still turned. Varric looked between Aria and Isabela as if he was watching a terribly intense game of chess being played. Anders glared disapprovingly at the pirate captain. When Aria was silent for too long, Isabela continued.

"It's the only thing that will get Castillon off my back. Please, Aria. Give the relic to me."

"The artifact belongs to the Qunari!" Aria shouted, her rage winning over her desire to help her friend for the moment. "Let them leave with it. I'll deal with Castillon if it comes down to it."

"There are people in this world that not even the dauntless Aria Hawke can defeat!" Isabela retorted. "Don't you understand? The relic is the only thing that will keep Castillon from feeding me to the sharks!"

"And what of the people who will die, the innocents, the ones who haven't even got a clue all of this is going on? You would let hundreds suffer all over something that was never yours to begin with?" Fenris snapped, stalking up beside Aria and facing Isabela.

"We can handle the Qunari," Isabela hopefully stated, but that hope did not reach her eyes.

Aria was silent again, looking between them all. Varric was still observant. Anders looked pissed. Fenris was, as usual, quite incensed. Aria walked away from them, her hands resting on the back of her head as she paced. She always did the right thing, didn't she? And where had it gotten her? She'd lost her family. She had a fortune, but it was hollow. And who was to say the Qunari would leave—and stay gone? Surely the Arishok would make a plea to return in force. He hated all of Kirkwall. Aria had the feeling that no matter what she did, he would still find justification for war. In reality, it was a miracle he hadn't already.

"If we give the Qunari the relic and they leave, what's to stop them from coming back in force a few months from now to take Kirkwall?" Aria asked everyone and no one, her eyes fixed on a flock of gulls lazily circling above them. They knew soon they'd be eating well, she gloomily thought.

"If you present them with the relic on the premise that the Qunari never return to Kirkwall—they're honorable. They keep their word," Fenris said then, glaring at Aria. He gave her that look that said she was making a mistake, and that he highly disapproved. He was closer to the Qunari way of thinking than he'd ever admit.

"You aren't seriously going to let her keep it?" Anders butt in. "Aria, are you daft?"

Isabela looked stunned. "Hawke, I promise. You won't regret letting me keep it."

Aria rounded on the pirate rogue. "I already do. Let's get this damn book first. Then we'll decide what to do with it."

They entered the foundry and came upon the exchange. The Tevinter mages stood near a suspicious looking man, with shifty eyes and a weak chin. The mages were dressed in fine robes and each possessed a lethally powerful staff. Aria groaned.

"Where is the relic?" one of the mages demanded of the man, a woman who looked to be of great wealth and power.

"I…I have it…right here," the shifty man said.

And then, as always, all hell broke loose. Another squadron of Qunari came through the back alley of the foundry. They flanked the Tevinter mages, who prepared for battle. Aria threw up her arms and silently cursed the Maker for his divine sense of humour.

"The Tome of Koslun will _not_ fall into Tevinter hands!" the leader of the newly arrived band of Qunari yelled out.

"Blood and spite!" the leader of the Tevinter mages spat, launching into battle.

Just as the fight began, the man who claimed to have the Tome of Koslun bolted for the exit. Aria turned to try and stop him, but he launched past her. Isabela was not so easily evaded.

"He's getting away!" Isabela forlornly cried, abandoning them to the Tevinter mages and Qunari squad.

"I'll reserve the 'I told you so' for later," Fenris dourly snarled from next to Aria as they faced the mayhem breaking out before them.

"I'm going to skin her and use her as a throw rug," Aria spat, joining the fray before them.

"Not if I get to her first," Varric muttered, launching a hail of arrows at the Qunari and mages battling in front of him.

The skirmish lasted nearly two hours. In the end, her own band of misfits were victorious. She did suffer a broken collarbone courtesy of a Sten and had to have Anders remove several arrows. Her armour was decent at stopping them, but still their broad heads sank well into her skin. Fenris was worse. Varric was hardly touched. Anders's condition could not be assessed—he was glowing too much.

Wounds healed courtesy of Anders, and pride barely intact, Aria and her party raced outside in the direction Isabela and Wall-Eyed Sam had gotten off to. Isabela had been thoughtful enough to leave a hastily penned note next to Sam's corpse.

_Aria,_

_I have the relic and I am gone. I've lost too much over this blighted thing to let it go again. I know it would be nobler to return it to the Qunari, but that would require a better soul than I possess. _

_For what it's worth, I'm sorry I lied to you. Again._

_Isabela_

Aria crumpled the note and threw it into the nearest torch sconce. She watched it burn, tasting the bitterness of defeat hot and metallic on her tongue. Now she _would_ have to face the Arishok. Now the Qunari _would_ burn down Kirkwall. The Qunari did not care who they killed in their role of the Qun. They did not care for those who they considered weak. Kirkwall was, in short, doomed.

"C'mon. Let's go watch Aveline piss off the Arishok. Do you think he'll go easy on me, seeing as how he seems to somewhat like me?" Aria mused as they started for Hightown.

"With your charm and good looks… He might let you be a plaything for the mages," Varric glibly put in his two coppers' worth.

"That's reassuring," Aria quipped.

"He isn't entirely unreasonable," Anders tentatively ventured. "If you can manage to do all the talking, Aria, you might be able to keep it from escalating. Aveline…Aveline is not so good at tact."

"She's as subtle as a lightning strike," Fenris agreed, glaring at the mage still.

"Balls," Aria spat. "For the record, I would like to be cremated. Fuck all what is done with my ashes."

Fenris and Anders both glared at Aria. Varric chuckled.

"I could make a fortune off selling them as a cure all to illness and misfortune," Varric glibly stated.

Aria laughed. "Send a stipend of all profits to Bethany please."

"Of course, madam!" Varric feigned hurt.

"Ugh. Let's get this over with," Aria groaned. "Maybe the world will surprise me."

They all but ran to the Keep. Aveline waited for them with a full complement of guards, Donnic at the forefront. He nodded at each of them in passing. Aveline's face fell when she saw them approach. Aria shared a look with her, one of circumstances dire.

"Hawke," she tersely said as the three of them reached her.

"She ran," Aria said with a shrug. "No surprise. But hey, I tried."

Aveline glared at the rogue and slowly shook her head. "How you've managed to stay alive this whole time is beyond me."

Aria instantly discarded her cajoling demeanor and her eyes shot amber sparks. "That you still draw breath is testament to my ability! Lest you forget," she icily boomed, several of the soldiers in the ranks flinched.

Aveline glared at her but said nothing. Instead she motioned violently forward with her arm and the men at the front marched. Movement behind them caught Aria's eye as they moved ahead, and she turned. The Viscount stood in the doors of the Keep, his face drawn and his eyes fearful. He nodded at Aria and she returned the gesture. Then, he shut the doors. Aria heard the bars fall into place a second later. He was preparing for siege. That situation grew darker by the moment.

Aria decided then that perhaps she should take some precautionary measures. As the guardsmen marched past her estate, she ran inside to alert Bodahn. Aria told him to bar her own door and hide in the cellar. She gave him the key to the sewers that led to Anders's clinic. Bodahn, Gamlen, Orana, and Sandal went to the cellar as soon as they'd done as Aria instructed. If anything happened, they'd be able to escape. Aria made it clear that under no circumstances were they to stand and fight.

She caught back up with the guardsmen as they descended from Lowtown to the docks. They stopped outside the Qunari compound at Aveline's command. Aria joined the group of her allies at the front gate, where one of the Qunari guards had just sent a messenger inside. Great. The Arishok would now know Aveline meant business. That headstrong woman was going to get her killed, Aria balefully thought as she reached them.

"Hawke… This could get messy," Aveline apologetically said.

"Of course it will. Everyone in the city knows we're about to piss off the Arishok. Let's be done with it already, shall we? If my head's still on my shoulders by supper time, I'll consider myself a very lucky sort indeed," Aria lightly replied, checking her daggers and her throwing knives. She then counted the healing and stamina vials on her belt.

"This isn't a game, Hawke!" Aveline shouted at her. If ever Aveline had been frightened in her life, this was it.

Aria stalked up to her and stood nearly nose-to-nose with the Guard-Captain. The redheaded stalwart woman was only a couple inches taller than Aria. But where Aria had stealth and swiftness, Aveline possessed sheer brute strength. Aria was not afraid of her. What she was really afraid of lay in wait for their inevitable provocation.

"You believe I think this is a game?" Aria softly asked, her tone subzero and malicious. "I _know_ what is at stake here."

"Then show it. Your little remarks are getting quite irksome."

"Your very presence is irksome," Aria retorted. "Soldier up, Aveline. It's time to pay the piper." Aria pointed to the guard and then curtsied facetiously at the Qunari guard.

"I request an audience with the Arishok," Aveline said to the guard.

"He will allow it," the guard said, "But not in this number." He indicated the complement of guards Aveline had brought with her.

"I will only bring my friend here, and a small complement of my guard. Is that few enough?" Aveline asked, motioning for Donnic to hold.

"It is," the Qunari guard replied. "Enter."

Aria watched the doors swing open and tried to gauge the Qunari soldiers' mood as she followed Aveline into the compound. Fenris tried to follow, but the guard stopped him.

"Just them and the guards. You others stay," the Qunari snarled.

"It'll be fine," Aria said with more hope than she really possessed.

Anders and Varric exchanged worried glances and looked as though they meant to follow as well. Aria shook her head slowly. She then turned and fell into step behind Aveline and the guards.

They approached the Arishok and the cold fingers of terror curled around Aria's spine. She could very well die today, she realized for the thousandth time since she'd woken up this morning. Aveline hastily stalked up to the Arishok's perch, where he stood waiting, a great axe slung easily over his shoulder. Aria was reading the signs. He had never been standing whenever she'd approached him before. She looked over at Fenris, then at Varric and Anders. Their faces all bore the same grim expression.

"Shanedan," the Arishok cordially greeted them, his flinty gaze shifting for a second to Aria before he regarded Aveline at the forefront.

"Greetings, Arishok," Aveline said with surprising civility. "We come regarding the elven fugitives that took refuge here."

He held up a silencing hand. "Irrelevant," the Arishok indifferently replied to her query. "I would speak to Hawke about the relic stolen from my grasp."

Aria fought the tremor that went through her when he glared at her. She stepped forward, mustering all of her formidable courage, with added anger at Isabela helping to fuel her fire. "One of my _former_ companions stole it," she managed to snap at him.

The Arishok seemed to relax slightly at this. "Her part was clear. Your admission is… Welcome."

"An issue for another time," Aveline cut in then, and Aria shook her head to try and get her to shut up. She stubbornly continued despite the obvious warning from her friend. "We're here for the fugitives."

The Arishok looked at her as though she was an annoying mosquito, begging to be smashed. "The elves are now viddathari. They have chosen to submit to the Qun. They _will_ be protected," he admonished, the threat in his tone not lost on Aria.

Before Aveline could botch this anymore, Aria stepped in. "Pardon my interruption, Arishok, but given what little I know about this situation, could it be possible the elves came to you as a shield from the law?"

"They have chosen, and so have I," the Arishok answered Aria, his voice low and dangerous. "You have not hidden the abuses of your zealots, or the corruption of this city. You will understand why I must do this." He motioned to the guards behind him and Aria could see two elves being led in. "Let us take a look at your 'dangerous criminals'."

The elves came forward, their jewel-like eyes holding nothing but anger for Aveline. Aria shot Aveline an assessing glance. The woman seemed nervous and her eyes grew wider.

"Speak, viddathari. Who did you murder and why?" the Arishok simply commanded of the elves.

The elder looking of the two young male elves stepped forward, his eyes still on Aveline. "A city guard forced himself on our sister. We reported him—or tried to. But they did nothing about it, no matter what we said. So my brothers and I paid him a visit."

Aria looked expectantly at Aveline.

"That doesn't excuse murder!" Aveline tried to salvage the situation.

"Are these elves telling the truth?" Aria demanded then, before the Arishok could say anything. His expression seemed somewhat pleased.

"There have been rumors," Aveline attempted to save face. "I will investigate, but they still took the law into their own hands."

"Sometimes that is necessary," the Arishok coldly stated.

"Like you avenged the Viscount's son? It wasn't right then, and it's not right now," Aveline snapped back.

"I would have done the same thing in their shoes," Aria added her two-cents, much to Aveline's ire.

"Hawke, that's not helping!" Aveline said in desperation.

The Arishok spoke again. "Their actions are mere symptoms. Your society is the disease," he said with vehement distaste. "They have chosen. The viddathari will submit to the Qun and find a path your way has denied them." He now stood nearly toe-to-toe with Aveline, who jutted her chest out and squared off with him.

"You can't just decide that. You must hand them over," Aveline challenged.

They stared each other down for a few seconds, then the Arishok walked a few steps away. He kept his back to them for a moment, and when he faced them again, it was Aria's attention he sought.

"Tell me, Hawke. What would you do in my place?" he asked of her.

Aria's mind scrambled for an answer, calculating what her beliefs were, what was at stake, and how to beat a hasty retreat should this all go south, as it most definitely was already doing. Everyone turned to her, expecting an answer soon.

"Why not just leave? The relic is no longer here. Is that not what you are charged with?" she sidestepped gracefully, hoping against hope it was enough to change the collision course upon which they were now all headed.

"I cannot leave without the relic, and I cannot stay and remain blind to this dysfunction," he stated, his voice hard as steel. "There is only one solution."

Aria felt dizzy. She knew then that they had failed. War was about to happen.

"Arishok, there is no need for…" Aveline started to try and placate the Qunari leader, but he motioned her to shut up with the wagging of a finger.

"Vinek kathas," he spat as he turned away.

Aria instinctively drew her daggers and started calculating exit routes. She moved to engage a Sten, but Aveline hooked her arm and dragged her into cover. A spear narrowly missed her abdomen and an arrow bounced off her chest plate.

"Not here!" Aveline shouted, motioning for the remaining guards to all to fall back on her. "Too open!"

As they made their escape, Aria turned back and locked gazes with the Arishok. His cold silvery eyes were full of sheer hatred. She glared back at him. She'd tried to help him. And this was her thanks? _No, Arishok, I will not die today_, she thought, lifting her chin in defiance.

"Hawke!" Aveline shouted at her, motioning for her to follow the Guard-Captain through the gate.

They ran blindly into Lowtown, the guards scattered as the Qunari unleashed their fury on the poor. Aria fought tears of rage as she listened to the screams of the dying. The air was quickly filling with smoke, and there were the sounds of battle all around. Here she was, running like a coward.

Aria, Aveline, Varric, Anders, and Fenris regrouped behind a warehouse near the docks. Aveline was furious. Fenris silently watched and listened to their surroundings. Anders assessed injuries and healed them, however minor. Varric stood in silence, his head hung low in defeat.

"Let me guess: Our friends from Par Vollen decided to take over afterall?" Fenris sneered as they gathered themselves.

"The Qunari are assaulting the city, and fast. The Arishok planned this for who knows how long."

"Alright, Aveline, strategy time," Aria spat through gritted teeth, her eyes darting around them, worried about possible ambushes.

"We need to help these poor people," Aveline wheezed, still catching her breath from running like hell.

"Obviously. But if the Keep falls, helping this lot is useless," Aria replied.

"Ugh! What a mess!" Aveline lamented, throwing her hands in the air.

"Go rally your guardsmen. We'll all rendezvous at the Keep," Aria said then, motioning for Varric, Fenris, and Anders to join her.

"And then you'll do what, exactly?" Aveline challenged.

"I've learned it's best to not make plans. They just get unraveled and chaos ensues anyway. Rally your guardsmen," Aria commanded. She was in control now, Maker damn them all. Aveline's brashness and unyieldingness was to blame. It was time to do things _her_ way.

A few guards were hiding just around the corner from them, and Aveline guided them down one of the back alleys. She cast a baleful glance back at them before she and her guardsmen disappeared from view. Aria turned to her other companions.

"Let's make for the Keep. Maybe we'll be able to get there in time to secure the Viscount," she gently commanded.

They fought through small bands of Qunari soldiers, who had garnered several elven converts to bolster their ranks. It pained Aria greatly to fight them; they didn't deserve to die like this. She dealt them as little damage as she could, seeking only to disarm or render them unconscious. Aria spared no quarter for the Qunari they engaged, however.

As they reached the slums where Gamlen's house stood, strangely armoured men engaged the Qunari as well. They joined the fray with the other men, managing to clear the neighborhood of the conquerors in just under an hour's time. When the battle was done for the moment, Aria and the leader of the new group of men introduced themselves.

"You have our sincere thanks," the leader, a Grey Warden by the looks of the armour up close, said, grasping Aria's forearm. "This attack was…most unexpected. I am Stroud, and we are Grey Wardens."

She grasped his in kind and nodded.

"I cannot believe the Qunari would dare such an attack. This will lead to war with the Free Marches for certain," Stroud continued. He motioned his men to form up and he bade her follow. He was on the move again already. "I fear pressing matters take us elsewhere, but we can spread word to the other Free Cities. Perhaps they will bring aid."

"There's something more important than an invasion?" Aria incredulously asked, feeling the chill of terror closing around her spine once more.

"The Qunari are of far greater concern to you, I am certain. But we must return to our mission," Stroud hastily replied. He did stop and fish something out of the satchel he bore. "Here," he said, holding his palm out. "Take this. It is all we can spare, but perhaps it will be of use."

Aria held out her palm and he deposited two heavily enchanted rings in it. She looked down at her hand in disbelief. How could two rings be of any use in a war?

Stroud turned once he reached the gate between the neighborhoods. "Maker watch over you, my friend."

Aria didn't look up. She fought the panic that threatened to raise her bile. The ringing in her ears grew less, and she started to regain focus. Now was not the time to lose it. People were dying, she told herself. Every second she stood here like a ninny, a life could be lost.

They regrouped, joined by a couple guards whose regiments had been scattered. The extra muscle was much welcomed. They fought through Lowtown, and finally three hours later, they clambered up the steps to Hightown. Just as they came into view over the top step, Aria crouched down and motioned for everyone else to do the same.

She pointed straight forward and motioned for them all to look. Two Qunari soldiers were dragging a noblewoman along, much against her will. The woman screamed and cried out, trying to fight off her captors.

"Parshaara! Quit your struggling, woman!" one of the soldiers barked at her.

Aria slipped from shadow to shadow behind them, daggers drawn and ready to use. She moved ahead them, Fenris and Varric silently in tow. They emerged in front of the soldiers before they could leave the Hightown Bazaar.

"Then the Arishok failed to take you captive," the brawnier of the two said. "Unfortunate."

The woman made her escape, screaming all the way down the steps to Lowtown. Aria jumped into battle, the ruckus drawing more Qunari soldiers to the scene. Anders remained at a distance, focusing mostly on healing and area spells that dealt all sorts of fire and lightning damage. Varric darted in and out of the fray, running interference for Aria's and Fenris's assault.

A Saarebas showed up just as Aria drove her dagger through the back of the last Karashok's neck. The Saarebas mage unleashed a spell that sent a momentarily crushing wave over them. Aria landed hard on her belly, the wind knocked out of her. She struggled to grab the blade that fell from her hand. The Saarebas rapidly approached, mana swirling malevolently in its palms. It lifted its arms and suddenly stopped the spell.

A split second later, a large sword went clean through him, its enormous blade stuck out of the Saarebas's chest for a moment, and then he fell. As his body slipped down toward the stones, his head flew off from a cleanly delivered blow from that same sword. Behind him stood a stern, cold, but oddly beautiful woman in very expensive looking templar armour. Aria knew who she was immediately, though she'd never met her in person and had only seen her from afar. The woman wore the armour well and was obviously good with a sword. A few templars raced up behind her and Aria hopefully looked around for signs of mages. There were none.

"I am Knight-Commander Meredith," the woman proudly stated, offering Aria her hand. Aria accepted the help up and stood before the woman. Her pale blue eyes narrowed on Aria. "I know you. The name Hawke has turned up in my reports many times. Too many."

"Perhaps we can save the interrogations for later," Aria glibly stated, taking a couple steps back. Her foot hit her dropped dagger and she stomped on the handle. It flipped in the air and she deftly caught it, then sheathed it on her back with her other one. "I'm more worried about the Qunari at the moment."

"It's obvious what they're doing," Knight-Commander Meredith tersely replied. "The Qunari are taking people into the Keep and may already be in control. We will need to deal with them."

Aria followed her gaze up the steps into Hightown—where a group of Qunari soldiers wrested another woman from her home and started dragging her away. A nobleman followed them seemingly willingly. Fury rose in Aria at this and she brandished her daggers again. She inspected the blades a second and saw they were badly nicked from heavy battle. Aria grabbed her whetstone and sat on the steps, much to Meredith's ire.

"Why are they taking hostages?" Aria queried, working the blade of her on-hand dagger. Fenris sat next to her and started doing the same with his own blade. Varric started going over Bianca. Anders kept his staff hidden.

"They're going to take everyone of import and put them in the same place," Fenris answered Aria's query, nodding politely at the Knight-Commander, who had taken marked interest in the elf for the moment. "Those that agree to convert, live. Those that don't…"

"Charming," Meredith sneered at him, then looked to Aria, her gaze expectant.

Aria sighed. "Yes, yes. I'll help. But if my hunch is correct, the Arishok is in the Keep. Can't very well fight monsters with dulled blades, now can I?"

"You have a reputation for a smart mouth, Aria Hawke," the Knight-Commander threateningly stated. "See that you use it wisely."

It was then that Aveline and a complement of battle-weary guards ran up the Hightown Bazaar steps from Lowtown and joined them. Aria continued working on her blade, as did Fenris. Anders melted into the ranks with the guards, further distancing himself from the one human being in Kirkwall that Justice wanted dead most.

"Ah! Guard-Captain!" Meredith chimed, walking towards Aveline. They embraced forearms in greeting.

"Knight-Commander! I am happy to see you," Aveline wearily replied.

"We need to get to the Keep," Meredith said then, waving her templars over to form up with the guards. "Hawke, you and your companions will head to the Keep. We will rally the rest of our men and meet you there. These creatures will pay for this outrage."

Aria and Fenris continued fixing their blades while Aveline's guards and the templars moved with Meredith. Aveline gave them orders to follow Meredith. When they were out of earshot, Aveline rounded on Aria.

"You would do well to show her respect."

Aria snorted. "When she's earned it."

"Hawke! Now is not the time—"

"Now _is_ the time. Aria's right to question that monstrosity of a woman," Anders cut in, materializing from the shadows. "And that was too close for comfort."

"Aveline, why are you here? Go with your guards," Aria wearily said. She started whetting her offhand blade.

"Meredith is in control. And you need all the help you can get," Aveline earnestly replied. "Honestly Hawke, when did we become enemies?"

"In your own words, _Captain_, now is not the time," Aria sighed. Her offhand blade wasn't as badly dinged as her main. She worked on it furiously to quickly get it sharp.

"I'm on your side, believe it or not," Aveline said then, sitting next to the rogue. She started whetting her own blade.

"In all these years, have I ever given you a reason not to trust me?" Aria asked of her, swirling her freshly sharpened blades in complicated kata. Her wrists were sore. Her arms were sore. Her body ached. Her temples throbbed. And this day was far from over. Her eyes went to the horizon to the west, where the sun was setting beneath a heavy blanket of clouds. It was going to start raining any moment.

"I have questioned your actions… But no, you've never given me cause not to trust you. I don't know whether it's stupid luck or skill…or both, but you nearly always manage to get by," Aveline quietly stated, satisfied that her blade was in sharp condition.

Aveline stood then, as did Aria with a hand up from Fenris. Varric and Anders joined them. Aria looked up the stairs to the dwarven merchant's guild and heard the sounds of fighting. Aria motioned them to follow her. "Let's get to the bloody Keep and give these horn-heads the whatfor."

They fought through pockets of resistance and took out several members of the Carta as well. Everyone was trying to capitalize on the chaos. The thieves' guilds were ransacking, the Qunari were taking hostages and killing those who resisted, and as they came upon the square before the Keep, Aria recognized the telltale signs of mage battles. Scorched rock, upturned earth, lightning fried corpses, Qunari frozen solid where they stood.

Aria and her companions joined the fray and started defending the weakened mages who still stood. Corpses lay all around and Aria feverishly checked every single one. The battle ended for the moment as Fenris slew the last standing Qunari in the vicinity. Aria ran over to where an elven mage had fallen and was now trying to rise. Aria offered her hand and helped haul him to his feet. She then realized by his decorum and his staff that this was First Enchanter Orsino.

"Many thanks, my friend," he grunted as he struggled to keep his footing.

"How many are there?" Aria worriedly asked, looking at the many fallen. Her eyes searched for short dark hair and big, brown doe eyes. "Is Bethany with you?"

"The others!" he gasped, turning to survey the damage. "Surely they cannot all be…" He knelt beside a corpse in defeat and his voice was sad. "Gone. I told them to run…"

"First Enchanter Orsino," Meredith's steely voice greeted their ears then. "You survive." The bite in her tone showed no love lost between the head of the templars and the head of the mages.

"Your relief overwhelms me, Knight-Commander," Orsino replied, unsuccessfully keeping the sarcasm from his tone completely.

Aria and her companions rallied behind Orsino.

"There is no time to talk," Meredith barked. "We must strike back, before it's too late!"

"And who will lead us into this battle?" Orsino challenged. "You?"

"I will fight to defend this city! As I have always done!" Meredith hotly answered.

Orsino shook his head and his eyes bespoke fury. "To control it, you mean! I won't have our lives tossed to the flames to feed your vanity!"

"Well this bickering certainly isn't helping," Aria cut in.

"And what would you have us do, Hawke?" Meredith rounded on her.

"I'm quite fond of living, however much it hurts at times. We need to get to the Keep. If they're smart, they'll overthrow the leadership first and use it to break morale," Aria curtly responded, meeting Meredith's icy gaze with the full fire of her own amber one.

"Hawke is right," Orsino backed her, and she was surprised he knew her name.

"I concur," Meredith said. "Let's get closer and see what we're up against."

Aria nodded at Orsino and followed Meredith up the steps to the plaza that lay just before the final ascent to the Keep. They all kept to the shadows out of sight of the Qunari guards posted at the door. Fenris stayed nearer to Aveline at this juncture; he wanted no part of Orsino. It was an unexpected dagger to Aria's heart, but she buried it. As everyone was so fond of saying tonight, now was not the time.

Aria crawled up to the top step and slid to a standing position behind a pillar. She quickly peered around it and took a head count. Twenty Qunari soldiers waited in front of the Keep's doors, their eyes alert and constantly scanning. She slid back down to a crouch and stealthily made her way back to where their group of about 15 armed companions waited.

Orsino's gaze fell when Aria shook her head. "There are a great many Qunari at the Keep's entrance," he spoke for her.

"Then they've already taken it over. Clearly they've been planning this for some time," Meredith quietly raged.

"Did you see any of my guardsmen?" Aveline worriedly asked Aria. Aria slowly shook her head.

"This is the only way in. We must assault them now, before their numbers grow," Meredith vehemently stated.

"Are you mad?!" Orsino heatedly whispered. "They have hostages! We need a distraction."

"I am in charge!" Meredith snarled, straining to keep her voice down. "I refuse to play games! We attack!"

"And lose more men? You've seen how they fight," Aria interjected. "I'm in favor of a diversion. Draw them away so that others can slip past. Minimize casualties, maximize gains of ground."

Meredith leveled her icy gaze on Aria. "You _would_ side with a mage!"

Aria strode up to her, ochre eyes flashing. "I'm on Kirkwall's side. Whose are you on?"

The Knight-Commander's gaze softened. "I only wish to defend this city!"

"Then set aside your anger at this and be rational," Aria countered.

Meredith sighed. "What would you have us do?"

Aria looked to Orsino. He smiled at her and waved them all to take cover. "Allow me." He stepped out into full view of the Qunari and launched a stream of magical attacks. The Qunari gave chase, racing past the hidden group of soldiers. Meredith waved Aria on and took her men to flank the Qunari as they went after Orsino.

Seeing her chance, Aria raced up the steps to the Keep. She slipped silently through the tall, heavy doors that stood slightly ajar. Aveline, Anders, Varric, and Fenris were right behind her. They quickly surveyed the damage. Corpses lay in every corner, noblemen and women, children, guards, and templars alike.

Qunari sentinels stood on the landings of the Keep's great hall entrance. Aria couldn't get hidden quickly enough, and the battle began anew. She took on two Karashok's while Varric and Anders launched their ranged attacks. Fenris slew three Sten in the time it took Aria to kill one Karashok. Aveline ripped through at least five of the soldiers, and they pressed on to the Viscount's throne room. They slaughtered the remaining Qunari outside the throne room's doors and entered.

Several terrified people had been herded into the throne room's wings, guarded by their stoic, hateful Qunari jailers. The Arishok stood in front of the Viscount's throne, his guards surrounding him.

"Here is your Viscount!" he boomed, throwing Dumar's severed head down the steps towards Aria. Several of the people in the hall keened and cried.

"You dare!" a young man screamed, stepping forward from the throngs of the terrified. "You are starting a war!"

A Karashok moved behind him and snapped his neck where he stood. People scattered in terror, screaming and wailing. Aria strode forward, fury radiating from every pore.

"Look at you! Like fat dothrasi, you feed and feed and only complain when your meal is interrupted!" the Arishok boomed. "You do not look up. You do not see that the grass is bare! All you leave in your wake is misery! You are blind! I will make you see!" He smiled wickedly at Aria and her companions as they strode forward. "But we have guests!"

The Arishok tromped down the steps, every movement rippling muscle. His eyes spoke hatred. Aria fought the terror he always instilled in her. He was a beast such as nothing she'd ever fought before.

"Shanedan, Hawke. I expected you," the Arishok greeted her from the third or fourth step up from the hall's main floor. "Meraas toh ebra-shok. You alone are basalit-an. This is what respect looks like, bas!" he boomed, addressing the throngs of hostages, gesturing to Hawke. "Some of you will never earn it! So tell me, Hawke. You know I am denied Par Vollen until the Tome of Koslun is found. How would you see this conflict resolved without it?"

Aria moved to speak, but there was a commotion behind her. A Qunari soldier fell, a dagger buried in his throat. And for a moment, Aria thought surely she really was dreaming. Isabela strode in, an enormous book under her arm.

"I believe I can answer that," the rogue pirate captain purred. She stopped next to Aria and winked at her before handing the book to the Arishok. "I'm sure you'll find it mostly undamaged."

The Arishok reverently held the book in his hand, smoothing his gauntleted fingers over its surface. "The Tome of Koslun," he breathed.

Isabela turned to Aria and smiled. "It took me a while to get back, what with all the fighting everywhere. You know how it is," she glibly said, drawing the other rogue in for a quick hug.

Aria fought tears. She had never thought in a million years Isabela would do something like this. It went completely against her nature. Aveline gaped at Isabela in shock. Varric and Anders guffawed with joy. Fenris stood silently behind Aria, arms crossed. He did quirk a smile at the pirate, but it was gone quickly.

"Heroic acts of sacrifice?" Aria chided. "Oh, people _will_ talk."

"This is your damned influence, Aria. I was halfway to Ostwick before I knew I had to turn around. It's pathetic," Isabela snapped back at her.

They abruptly returned to silent attention when the Arishok handed off the Tome to one of his Sten. "The relic is reclaimed. I am now free to return to Par Vollen—with the thief."

"What?!" Isabela and Aria both said in unison.

"Oh, no no no," Aveline bellowed. "If anyone kicks her ass, it's me!"

Aria gaped in shock at the Guard-Captain. Fenris stifled a cough. Varric and Anders both laughed aloud. Isabela blew Aveline a kiss.

"She stole the Tome of Koslun. She must return with me," the Arishok snarled, shouldering his wicked greatsword. Aria's eyes surveyed the weapon and fear lanced through her again.

"Sounds like you have something…very specific in mind," Aria hedged, swallowing the lump that had risen in her throat.

"She will submit to the Qun and the Ben-Haasrath. More than that, I will not say," the Arishok smoothly replied in his terrifying deep voice.

"You have your relic. She stays with us," Aria snapped back. He didn't realize just what a monumental act Isabela had just done. Aria wasn't going to see it punished.

"I'm sure he'll take that well," Varric coughed, sidling up to Isabela. He subtly grabbed her hand. "Rivaini, you might want to move a bit this way."

Isabela sidestepped with him, and it positioned them behind Aria, Aveline, Fenris, and Anders. A lot of fighting prowess to get through in order to claim her.

"Then you leave me no choice," the Arishok growled. He rounded on Aria. "I challenge you, Hawke. You and I will battle to the death, with her as the prize."

"No!" Isabela screamed, running back up beside Aria. "If you're going to duel anyone, duel me!"

Aria held her arm out, pushing Isabela slightly back, her eyes locked on the Arishok.

He glared at the pirate. "You are not basalit-an. You are unworthy."

"Don't you have what you came for?" Aria shot at him.

"You know we do not suffer thieves," the Arishok sneered at her. "She cannot walk away from this insult. I will take her. If you object, duty demands that we fight."

Aria took a challenging step toward him. She silenced all the fear in her. She silenced the doubt. "All right. Let's dance."

"Meravas! So shall it be!" the Arishok shouted with joy. He stepped away and his guards started preparing him for battle.

Isabela dragged Aria to the back of the hall, tears in her ever-changing eyes. "Hawke—you can't do this for me."

Fenris and Aveline grabbed Isabela and hauled her away, as the Arishok was already preparing to attack. Aria readied herself, lowering into a defensive stance. What had made her even agree to this madness? Single combat? A duel? And if she lost, everything in this city was lost, not just Isabela. The Arishok would not stop, she realized. He would never stop threatening this place until he no longer drew breath. She fought the sheer panic that nearly made her dry heave. Thousands of lives now rested on the outcome of this one battle alone. She'd been fighting all day. All she had to do was one more battle. Just one more fight.


	40. Chapter THIRTY-NINE

**Chapter 39**

Maker, but the Arishok was huge. Aria paled when he drew his sword, but was careful to keep her expression flat. She almost would have preferred the great axe he'd sported earlier. That sword was as long as she was tall and had nasty hooks on either side of the blade's tip. It was not meant for efficiency; it was meant to mangle and obliterate creatures softer than itself.

She unsheathed her daggers and swung them with impressive flexibility and speed, limbering up her sore shoulders and wrists. Aria's combat prowess was exceptional and she tried to gather courage from that confidence. She also checked to make sure her shots of health and stamina potions were easily and readily accessible on her belt. It was going to be a long, hard battle and she wasn't going to survive without every edge possible.

Fenris, Aveline, Isabela, Varric, and Anders stood behind the behemoth, escorted there by the Qunari guards clearing the battle field. Aveline's visage bore signs of extreme worry, though she tried to smile when her eyes met Aria's. Isabela shook with silent sobs, her eyes pleading with Aria. Varric smiled at her and gave her a thumbs up. Anders's expression was impassive, though his chocolate brown eyes were unnaturally bright. And Fenris…he smiled confidently at her, nodding. That was all she needed. She needed that support right now. She'd been fighting all day and then some. The Arishok was fresh.

The Arishok charged, his great horned head down, his shoulder ready to buffet her should it connect. She leaped sideways, slicing his back with one of her daggers. It reminded her of an Orlesian bullfight, except this was not mere entertainment. She whirled to see where he'd stopped, springing into a back flip to evade him as he charged again. She heard Aveline gasp to her left.

"Filthy human," one of the Qunari behind her growled.

The Arishok lunged for her and she blocked his blade for a moment with her offhand dagger, whipping her sharper right handed one across his bared abdomen. It hardly scratched his tough hide. He tossed her defense backwards and brought the pommel of his sword down hard on her right shoulder with a sickening crunch. Aria clenched her teeth as the pain tore through her entire right side, managing to snag a miasmic flask from her belt with her left hand. She tossed it and kicked it with expert precision, showering the Arishok with the fog and broken glass. His eyes glazed over and she realized, with a sudden rush of hope, that the stun potion had worked.

Fearing that she had no time to waste, she lunged toward him and stabbed deeply at his abdomen, her blade biting shallowly into his hard flesh. His shoulders were still stooped, and he was wobbling, so she vaulted swiftly over his head and unleashed a bevy of attacks at his back, viciously cutting and slicing away at him. She nearly whooped aloud when she saw blood start to seep from the wounds she inflicted.

He recovered a few seconds later, angrier than she'd ever seen any creature get. His entire body shook with his fury. He roared and unleashed a flurry of devastating blows. Most of them missed, but the few that landed broke her ribs and severed a few muscles. She evaded him again, quickly snagging a health potion, then stamina potion in rapid succession. The healing potion raced through her blood, healing the severed tissue and broken bones. Her muscles cooled quickly as the stamina took effect. Almost in the same instant, the Arishok heaved a great swing at her legs and she sprang over his head, flipping in the air and landing on her feet behind him, crouched with daggers at the ready.

Cheers erupted from her companions at her narrow escape while the Qunari present grunted their displeasure. It was clear to Aria now how she was going to win this fight. The slightest misstep would mean death. And she was already exhausted from the fighting earlier. Evade, stun, damage. Evade, stun, damage. It was a dance of death.

"Quit running, basra coward!" one particularly disgruntled Karashok shouted then.

Aria gritted her teeth as she spun around, dancing away, only to face the Arishok again, who was charging for her. She strafed sideways, the way a bird of prey does when caught by a swift crosswind, easily avoiding the onslaught the Arishok sought to unleash. She hardly contained the laughter that bubbled in her throat when he slammed into one of the hall's enormous pillars. He shook it off, every bit the angry bull, and came at her swinging again. She ducked under the heavy sweep of his enormous sword, spinning so that she came up behind him again. She quickly lunged at his back before he could recover; dealing several swift blows to the same areas she'd opened up earlier.

The Arishok spun, roaring his rage that she'd managed to evade him again. He unloaded on her with a flurry of devastating blows that did more damage than the last she'd endured. Gasping for breath, she bolted away from him, her fingers quickly snatching the needed potions from her belt. She was mid chug on the stamina as he charged again. She dropped the stamina vial and quickly snagged another miasmic flask from her belt. She whirled and kicked it over his head.

Aria capitalized on his momentary stupor, flipping over his head again and burying both daggers into his back as she came down. She yanked them free, spun, and delivered another barrage before he came out of it again. But, by the time he whirled to face her, she was across the room, drawing deep, heaving breaths to recover from this exhausting battle.

They continued in this fashion for nearly three hours, though Aria was showing a slight bit more progress. Blood stained both of their visages and bodies. Both of them were gasping for breath. Both of them were experiencing difficulty in their movements.

Aveline shouted from behind the Qunari line, egging Hawke on as best she could from the sideline. Varric struggled to get a better vantage point on the battle. Isabela cheered and screamed, shouting out maneuvers. Anders had set his staff down and kicked it away to prevent him from healing her, though the look on his face showed how much it was paining him to watch her get hurt like she was. It occurred to him then that he might lose her today. She was bleeding, utterly exhausted, and looked as though she might drop at any moment.

Fenris was awestruck. The heart she showed in this battle, taking on someone of such huge stature and still managing to best the formidable enemy impressed him more than he already was with her. He was beside himself as much as the others, wincing every time the Qunari leader dealt his devastating blows and feeling her pain right along with her. But he had faith in her. She could do this. He'd seen her take on dragons and darkspawn ogres. He knew she had it in her—she would just be tested more sorely than ever before today, Maker bless her soul.

He prayed fervently against any doubt that she'd be the victor. He didn't think he could stand it if she lost. The conversation he had with Anders about suicide came to the forefront of his mind, the one in which the mage had encouraged Fenris to kill himself if he found his plight so unbearable, the same way Fenris had egged on the mage to do so. When Anders had asked him why he would not commit the act, Fenris had replied that it was a sin, and he could not do it. Today, Fenris actually entertained the idea. If Aria died in this battle, he would not be far behind, Maker be damned. She'd become the light to his night. She was his first thought upon waking, and the last before sleeping. She could not lose.

After another two hours of grueling battle, the Arishok was showing definite signs of fatigue. His blows were losing strength and accuracy. His charges were nowhere near as fast nor as powerful. His years of inactivity within Kirkwall were no match for the years of battle-hardening that Aria had endured. She could sense he was nearing his breaking point and it fueled her attacks, lending her strength beyond what she already possessed.

He charged her again, his attempt half-hearted. Aria decided to try her luck, knowing that it could cost her her life, but she was done with this battle. She was done with the idea that they would all be converted to something they did not hold belief in. She was done with people trying to tell her what was right, what was wrong, and how to live her life. She was done having those she cared about taken from her. She was going to exact revenge, starting with this zealot. And she'd carve the heart out of every other zealot that sought to use her as a pawn again. This was for her family, for her friends, for her life.

With a bloodcurdling scream of rage, she drove towards him as he charged, vaulting into the air just before they collided. She dropped her offhand dagger and gripped the hilt of the wickeder forehand blade with both hands, driving it hard and clean up to the hilt just below the Arishok's neck between his shoulders. He fell, his own sword flying across the room and landing with a deafening clatter.

The room went absolutely silent. Aria's chest was heaving and her muscles ached severely. But her rage gave her strength and she drew upon it further. She snatched the dagger up that she'd cast away and strode wearily up to where the Arishok had fallen. She yanked her other dagger out of his back and turned him over, poised to strike again should he move.

"This is not the end," he gurgled, blood rising in his throat, his eyes glinting cold, hard malice. "We will come again."

"Then, I look forward to it," Aria venomously whispered, dropping one of the daggers again to bury the other into his heart.

The Qunari stood in stunned silence as they watched Aria send their leader to the Void. They had never thought this insignificant human capable of felling the ferocious Arishok. It was an oversight that they would never again make and paid dearly for now. Without a single word, the remaining Qunari soldiers filed out of the great hall and disappeared down the steps, their heads down, and their spirits broken.

Aveline charged Aria and swept her into the air, crushing the battle weary rogue to her in a giant hug. Aria winced and bit back her cry of pain, her cracked ribs and spine paining her excruciatingly in the process and nearly rendering her unconscious. White lights flashed before her eyes and when her vision returned, it was spotted with black and red. She gasped for breath and fought to speak.

"Aveline," she choked, "Please put me down. I have a great many broken bones at present."

"Hawke, I'm so proud of you, I could kiss you!" she squealed girlishly, a sound Aria never wanted to hear from the warrioress again.

"Please don't. People talk enough already," Aria laughingly wheezed, slumping over and falling sideways to the ground. She rolled onto her back and closed her eyes for a moment, ignoring the gasps of the onlookers around her. Let them think she was dying. She didn't care for anything right now.

For the moment, all she wanted to do was exist in darkness and focus on breathing. Anything else might break her now. Just…breathe. She weakly and appreciatively grinned when a wave of magical healing crashed over her, stealing her pain and exhaustion.

"Thank you, Anders," she whispered, opening her eyes again. He bowed, his deep brown eyes shining merrily.

Isabela knelt by her and helped haul Aria to her feet. Tears flowed freely down her mocha cheeks and she embraced the battle-weary Aria almost as hard as Aveline had. When she released Hawke, she kissed her soundly on the lips. "Don't ever do that again! I fight my own battles!" Isabela cried as Varric joined them.

"That was the stuff of legends!" Varric cheered, clapping Aria on the back. He was going to have a heyday with this one, Aria well knew. She actually looked forward to his version of the story; hers hurt too much.

"I can't believe you did that. You should have seen you! Just dodging and parrying, a shadow he could hardly manage to hit!" Aveline gushed as Aria bent over to take another deep breath.

"Oh, he managed to hit me quite enough," Aria wheezed, exhausted beyond any measure she could previously recall. Potions and magic would only go so far after a fight like that. What she needed now was a good hearty meal, a cask of mead, and a week in bed.

Aria looked around the room at the faces of the people she'd just saved from terrible indoctrination. They were all cheering and crying, exuberant and relieved. Her eyes landed on the steady green stare from the steps. Fenris hadn't moved. He was watching her, his expression blank, his eyes intense, his arms folded across his chest. She smiled at him and found herself dazzled by the one he returned to her, his eyes sparkling brilliantly in the low torch light of the hall. It was very rare indeed that Fenris smiled, really, whole-heartedly smiled, and it disappeared from his ethereally handsome visage all too quickly.

Fenris strode purposefully toward her, his strides powerful and graceful. He snatched her hand and yanked her to him. He crushed her against him, burying his face against her neck. His arms trembled as he held her and his lips caressed her neck.

"I knew you could do it," he whispered next to her ear.

Tears sprang to her eyes and she fought to keep them from spilling down her cheeks. She did have a reputation to keep, after all. She held him closer, burying her own face against his neck, drawing on the warmth he radiated for strength and sanity. Despite the rocky road their relationship traveled, she knew he was hers—and she was gladly his. They stayed there for a moment, until Aria realized how quiet the hall had gotten around them. Aria gently turned in his embrace to see what was transpiring.

Meredith had arrived and was glowering at the display before her, ignoring the dead Arishok at her feet. Fenris released Aria, but kept one arm around her waist as they faced the Knight Commander. His eyes radiated cold, emerald fury.

"Is it over?" Meredith asked with incredulity, the templars and Orsino at her flank.

Aria nodded. "It is over."

"The city has been saved!" one of the noblemen cheered from the crowd. "Hawke has saved us all!"

The crowd of former hostages converged on Aria, cheering, lifting her up. As they carried her past, Meredith sheathed her great sword, but her eyes shot pale blue daggers at the rogue. Aria didn't care. Today… Today she didn't lose.

The sun was rising in the east as they emerged from the Keep, crowds gathering as word spread. The refugee from Ferelden, traveler of the Deep Roads, mage-friend, and elf-lover, had prevailed. The crowd set her down on the steps and she hailed everyone, her arm upraised in victory.

Orsino joined her, his expression jubilant, his sparkling eyes slightly misted. "Your sister will be so very proud."

"She was not in this fray, I hope?" Aria said then, the familiar chill of fear rushing back.

"No. She is safe, in the Gallows. Thank you, Hawke. We all owe you a great debt," the mage said as Meredith joined them.

"Well done. It appears Kirkwall has a new Champion," Meredith icily said. She silently led the surviving templars and couple of mages away from the Keep.

"Aria! Aria!" someone shouted from within the crowd. People moved to make way for the frantic man. "Aria! Oh! Thank the Maker!"

Gamlen collided with her on the top step, embracing her so tightly that her mangled armour let go of a couple pieces.

"Uncle…" Aria groaned. He hugged her tighter. "Really… I'm crying uncle!"

He released her just enough to look her in the eyes. "You damned fool girl! You gave me a fright! How in Andraste's name did you survive?"

Aria sighed and gently stepped away from him, patting him on the shoulder as she did so. Bodahn, Orana, and Sandal came then, fighting through the crowd. They were all safe. Finally. Aria fought the overwhelming urge that would reduce her to tears.

"Let's…let's save that story for later. Right now… I just want to eat an entire dragon, take a long hot bath, and sleep for ages," Aria wearily laughed.

"Right! You must be exhausted," Gamlen said, hooking her arm with his. He started to lead her down the steps, but Varric sidled up to him.

"Free drinks at the Hanged Man, and I'll tell you the story," Varric smoothly stated, winking at Hawke.

"Well you can't bloody well turn that offer down," Aria chuckled.

Fenris appeared then. Gamlen kissed her on the cheek and released her, winking as the elf took her arm in his stead. Aria watched them bound down the steps through the crowd. She shook her head, smiling as she watched them disappear into the midst of Kirkwallers.

"Let's get you home," Fenris whispered by her ear as he drew her closer to him.

"Music to my ears," Aria replied, allowing him to guide her through the mass of people. They clapped her on the back and cheered her name as they passed, many of them also praising Fenris. Aveline, Anders, and Isabela followed in her wake, along with Bodahn, Sandal, and Orana.

The damage done to the city was a sobering sight. All these happy faces seemed out of place amidst the broken stones and corpses of Qunari and humans. She tried not to think about it. None of their deaths had been in vain. The casualties of this skirmish were avenged.

As soon as they got inside, Anders and Aveline went up to ready a bath. Orana and Bodahn went into the kitchen to start preparing a meal. Sandal took Aria's armour and weapons as Fenris removed them, and he set to the task of mending them straightaway.

Fenris led Aria to the sitting room and sat on the sofa with her, his arms around her. Isabela sat in the chair across from them. Early morning sunlight lit the room and made Aria feel the most at peace she could ever remember.

"Aria, I don't even know what to say," the rogue pirate said once they'd settled.

"You needn't say anything. That you came back is enough," Aria wearily replied.

"That was the most spectacular fight I've ever seen!" Isabela gushed. "You were amazing!"

"I don't feel amazing, but thank you," Aria laughed.

"You were. And you are," Fenris huskily stated. He looked as exhausted as Aria felt. She gently touched his face, her thumb tracing the dark circle under his eye.

"I am forever in your debt," Isabela said then. "And I've no doubt we can handle Castillon."

"He may think twice about coming after you, knowing you have me in your corner," Aria airily laughed.

"He may indeed!" Isabela chortled, throwing her arms up in the air. She sniffed her own armpit and groaned. "I need a bath."

"I would offer you mine, but I've only the one tub and I plan on utilizing it," Aria chuckled.

"Well we could share it," Isabela said with a wink.

"The other seat will be occupied," Fenris admonished, though his eyes sparkled with mischief.

"Oh, very well then. Do come to the Hanged Man when you wake up. Or what's left of it, I should say. When I came through, half the roof was on fire," Isabela relented, standing and stretching.

"I think half the city was on fire," Aria groaned.

"Never you mind that," Isabela laughed. "We won!" She danced from the room chortling and spinning like a crazed gypsy. "We won, we won, we won!" Sandal cried out when she kissed him, and she left the estate to cheers from the crowds still gathering outside.

Anders and Aveline walked into the sitting room then. Aveline's eyes misted when she saw Hawke, and they sat in the chairs near the hearth.

"What a fight," Aveline sighed. "I'll never doubt you again."

Aria chuckled. "See that you don't."

"You need rest," Anders gently stated. "How you're still standing is beyond me."

"Technically, I'm sitting," Aria replied. "Food first. I'm starving."

Aria was quiet then and listened as Fenris, Anders, and Aveline recapped the previous nightmarish day's events. They laughed and congratulated each other. Aveline broke out a couple bottles of wine, which they drained in mere moments.

At last, Bodahn and Orana came in to tell them the meal was ready. Fenris all but carried Aria to the dining room and her stomach nearly howled at the sight of the feast before them. Leftover roast beef from the other night, even more tender and flavorful now. Stir fried vegetables glazed with Orana's signature sauce. An entire cask of mead sat on the table, tapped and ready for drinking. Decadent chocolate cake that was Aria's favourite.

They ate until they were stuffed, chattering merrily about the victories and debating who the new Viscount would be. Aria mostly ate and listened. She was much too weary to actively engage in conversation. With their bellies full and their minds at ease, Aveline and Anders departed. Anders took the cellar route, so as to avoid the increased templar patrols Meredith had sent out.

Bodahn, Sandal, and Orana cleared the table and cleaned up while Fenris led Aria to the stairs. She stopped him and looked dubiously at the steps.

"I'm so tired. I could just sleep down here on the sofa…" Aria started to say, but he swept her up into his arms.

"No," he gravelly whispered. He carried her up to her bedroom and set her gently on her bed. Then he went over and poured the steaming water from the hearth into the tub. She watched him, fighting the war with her eyelids that now each seemed to weigh as much as Kirkwall itself.

Aria did not protest when he helped her undress. She worked at his own accoutrements, though she moved much slower than he did. She let her hair down and he combed it out for her. Neither of them seemed to have the energy to speak. He carried her to the tub and they lay in its bubbly bliss for quite some time before moving or saying anything again.

Aria rested her head on his chest as he poured water over her head to soak her long, silvery hair. His heartbeat was slow, steady, and strong against her cheek. Her fingers traced lazy patterns over his lyrium brands. He dispensed his favourite of her shampoos into the palm of his hand and started to wash her hair.

"I love you," Aria whispered, her eyes closed as he rinsed the soap from her hair. She heard his breath hitch in his chest. She slowly lifted her weary head so that she could look into his eyes.

His hand caressed her cheek, his expression unreadable. "I…love you."

She smiled and returned her head to his chest. He finished rinsing her hair and grabbed the bath sponge. He scrubbed it with the bar of soap until a thick lather frothed over the entire thing, and he gently set about to scrubbing her back. Aria sat up and took it from him after a moment, finishing scrubbing herself before she did the same for him.

They were both bruised, cut, and sore all over. Anders hadn't had time to deal with their most minor injuries. There was a large cut that ran down his cheek, his bottom lip was slightly swollen and starting to bruise. He had numerous scrapes, cuts, and contusions down his abdomen and thighs. When she washed his back, it was much the same.

"What a pair we make," Aria softly laughed as she helped him rinse.

He chuckled and held her back to him, his fingers combing her conditioner through her hair. "What a pair indeed." He poured more water over her head to rinse the cream from her hair, then gingerly and slowly removed himself from the tub. He fetched two towels and her robe from the closet, and all the while she just watched him move.

He was a beautiful creature. Lithe and steely. Controlled and precise. Aria loved to watch him move, she loved to look at him. His eyes caught hers and she swore he might have blushed. She allowed him to help her from the tub, and as she bent over it to pull the drain plug, his hand smoothed up her back. His fingers traced the tattoo of the hawk between her shoulder blades.

Aria stood and turned to face him, laughing as he threw a towel about her shoulders and he used it to pull her against him. His mouth claimed hers, needy, hungry. She kissed him back, their naked bodies colliding and entangling. He pulled away just long enough to turn the blankets down, then he swept her up into his arms and deposited her gently onto the bed. Fenris lowered his body over hers as she pulled the blankets up to cover them.

His head rested on her collarbone, his lips caressed her neck. Aria combed her fingers through his damp hair, and she started to hum softly. After a moment, she felt him relax completely, and his breath came in deep, slow draws. Aria smiled to herself and kissed the top of his head, her fingers intertwining with his. If there ever existed a heaven, this was it.


	41. Chapter FORTY

**Chapter 40**

"The mistress is not yet awake! You can't go in there!" Orana's voice dragged Aria from her slumber. Fenris jumped up and donned the pair of breeches that had been laid out for him. He threw the bolt on Aria's bedroom door so that none could enter.

Aria lay on her side, her head turned towards the door. Fenris laced the breeches and quirked his wicked half smile at her. She giggled and sat up, then groaned. Every muscle in her body was tense and sore. Her stomach roiled momentarily and she fought the sudden violent urged to vomit. Cold sweat beaded her skin. But, almost as quickly as the wave of illness hit her, it was gone.

She took in her surroundings quickly, the whole episode having taken but a minute or less. It was dark outside. Rain fell steadily and pinged against her window pane. The door handle jiggled then, and when it wouldn't open, someone pounded on it.

"Hawke! Time to get up!" Aveline's voice sounded.

"In my own bloody time!" Aria yelled back, leaning forward as another wave of nausea quickly ripped through her, then subsided just as swiftly as it had onset.

"Come on, you're the guest of honor!" Aveline replied, and Aria could hear her boots tromp away from the door, down the stairs.

"Makers breath, I thought Donnic would be a better influence on that woman," Aria moaned, her head in her hands. She felt like she could sleep for at least another day or so.

"I see someone went to my estate," Fenris monotoned, holding up a tunic, underwear, undershirt, and a pair of fine boots and gloves. The tunic was primarily black, with two emerald green stripes that ran from the shoulders down, and in the center it was quilted gold brocade. Lining the stripes was bright silver thread. The sleeves had silver vines embroidered down them. It was a handsome shirt. The gloves were a soft, rich, black leather, and the boots were nearly knee high, also black leather. His undershirt was a white sleeveless, and the undershorts were emerald green.

"I've never seen you wear those," Aria curiously stated. She stood and stretched, her shoulders and knees popping with the effort and her muscles almost audibly groaned in protest. Her stomach seemed to have settled and she was grateful. Aria abhorred vomiting, for any reason.

Fenris chuckled and slipped back out of the breeches, intending to don the undershorts now. Aria went to the closet, rifling through clothes to wear. Fenris's voice stopped her.

"Seriously?" he snorted, pointing to the wardrobe across the room.

On the outside of it hung a stunning black gown with emerald green lacing all up the sleeves, silver flowers sewn into the lace. The neckline hung off the shoulders, with a cowl around it of black lace. The skirt seemed to be form fitting through the hip and thigh, but flowed out at the knee. The right leg of the skirt had a slit nearly to mid-thigh. Strappy wedges sat on the floor in front, and there was a mini slip hung over the chair. On the seat of the chair someone had laid out black and green lace lingerie, embroidered with silver.

"Am I really awake? This is a bad joke. I mean it's a beautiful dress, but…we'll practically match," Aria said with mild disgust. She wrinkled her nose in distaste.

"They're trying to make a statement, I think. They think we're…civilized," Fenris dubiously stated. "I'm stuck wearing this. You've got a wardrobe full of clothes to choose from."

Aria looked over at the desk and saw Fenris's armour. It had been mostly repaired and painstakingly cleaned. Then Aria looked over at the mannequin where she normally hung her own armour. It too had been largely repaired and meticulously cleaned.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Fenris asked as he sidled up next to her, his eyes going from her armour to his.

"Maker, yes!" Aria replied.

"Done," Fenris almost purred. He donned the undershirt and shorts and the breeches. Then he set to work pulling on his armour.

Aria put on the underwear that had been laid out for her, but struggled to clasp the brassiere, as her shoulders were painfully stiff and uncooperative. Fenris strode up behind her and did the clasps, but then his hands held her shoulders. Aria turned to look at him, then froze when his lips feathered the side of her neck.

"We need to go on holiday," he huskily said. "And you need to don that armour before I rip all this off you."

Aria giggled and padded over to her dresser, where she pulled out her standard black camisole and breeches to wear under her armour.

"Hawke! I know it doesn't take that long to get dressed!" Aveline's voice came from just down the stairs.

"Some days, I just don't feel like slaying dragons," Aria angrily muttered, garnering a chuckle from Fenris. She finished suiting up quickly, then ran her brush through her hair. She started to put it up, but the look Fenris gave her in the mirror made her stop. "What?"

"You really should leave your hair down more often," he quietly stated, tightening his sword belt. "It's beautiful."

Aria felt the blush creep through her cheeks and ears and grabbed the pewter combs Bethany had gifted her what felt like eons ago. She pinned up the sides of her hair, then secured the rest of it in a loose ponytail at the nape of her neck with a pretty, scarlet ribbon. Satisfied that she was presentable, she unbolted the door. She then turned to Fenris.

"Ready?"

"I remain at your side," he huskily replied, offering her his arm.

She smiled and took it, and together, they walked out onto the landing. Cheers erupted as they reached the stairs. Aria gasped at the decorations. Streamers and candles were littered everywhere. Tables had been brought into the great hall beneath them, and were adorned with black and green table cloths. Casks of mead and ale and wine sat on them, along with an enormous amount of different foods. Aria's stomach rumbled. She still felt like she could eat a dragon.

"There they are!" Varric hooted. "Hawke, get your ass down here and help me drink this mead! The elf can wait!"

Laughter filled the hall at this and Aria and Fenris quickly descended. Many familiar faces filled the space. People they'd helped. People they'd befriended. Gamlen stood next to Hubert, Lady Elegant and her Lord husband, and the man whose wife had been one of the first victims of the murderer that killed Leandra. Orana straightened the edible arrangements to her liking. Sandal flipped a rune stone in the air and caught it, over and over. Bodahn, Varric, Anders, and Isabela dragged chairs around the tables. Merrill followed Orana, asking questions about the food. Ser Kerran and his sister were present, along with a couple other young templars with whom Aria had become acquainted. Lirene from Lowtown, the shopkeeper at Fereldan Imports, stood off to the side with Arianni, the elf whose son Aria had rescued from the Fade. Aveline and Donnic made their rounds together. A few nobles with whom Mother had been acquainted were also in attendance, mingling throughout the vastly different people in the crowd.

Mother. A pang of guilt hit her then, and she realized it hadn't even been a week yet since the matriarch was murdered. She hadn't given grief any chance to set in, and she thought then, that she was actually ok with it. Mother would have wanted her to celebrate and enjoy life. Maker knew at this point, Aria had earned it.

And then Aria's gaze met a teary, doe-eyed one and she cried out. "Bethany!" Aria raced over to her and embraced her tightly.

"Mother would have been so proud!" the mage tearily stated when she pulled away to look into Aria's eyes.

Aria fought her own tears and hugged her sister again. "I'm so very glad you're safe. When I saw Orsino and the other mages… I feared the worst had happened."

"The Knight-Commander wouldn't let me go," Bethany said in a hushed tone near Aria's ear. "For once, I'm glad of something she did."

"Indeed," Aria replied, pulling away again to look down at her sister. "I'm so happy you're here!"

"You aren't wearing the clothes I picked out for you," Bethany pouted. "You two would have been adorable!"

Aria laughed at this. "Fenris said someone was trying to make a statement. We aren't civilized folk, you know. We're savages. But we're useful when things like the Arishok happen, so the nobility tolerate us."

"You were afraid of matching?" Bethany said then.

"In essence. Yes," Aria quickly replied.

"Did you happen to look in a mirror beside each other before you came down?" Bethany asked then, pointing to Fenris's garb, and then to Aria's.

Their armour matched, Aria realized. She busted out laughing and shook her head. "I hadn't even thought of that."

Fenris was engaged in conversation with Gamlen, Varric, Donnic, Anders, and Hubert. It warmed Aria's heart to see them accept him so. Gamlen seemed genuinely interested in what the elf had to say. No doubt he was recapping the details of their many battles yesterday.

"People are talking," Bethany said then, drawing Aria's attention back to her.

"People never shut up," Aria groused, dragging her sister over to the long line of tables. She snatched a goblet and filled it with ale.

Bethany also took a goblet but filled hers with wine. She looked at her sister appraisingly, as if trying to decide something.

"What?" Aria asked, jarred by the sudden queasiness she had felt earlier. She set the ale down and took a glass filled with warm milk instead.

"When will the wedding happen?"

Aria's brows shot up in surprise and the people around them, Lady Elegant and her husband, Aveline, Merrill, and Isabela, stopped conversing to listen in on this juicy tidbit of gossip. "I love you, Bethany. But you're still a wretch," Aria replied, taking another swig of the milk.

"I just want you to be happy," Bethany giggled, then drastically lowered her voice, "With as much time as you two apparently spend in bed together, rumors have spread that you're with child."

Aria looked at her sister in absolute shock. "We don't… Not that often… And why is it anyone's business?" Aria sputtered.

"You're currently _the_ most eligible bachelorette in the Free Marches, Aria," Bethany quietly giggled. "I've already overheard many plots to gain your affection."

"Well the plotters can piss off," Aria groused. "I'm taken."

"That is sad to hear indeed," someone said from behind them. Aria recognized the guard as Perrin, the one Aveline had tried to pair her up with once before.

Aria smiled at him and extended her hand. "Ser Perrin. Glad to see you survived that whole mess."

"Likewise, Serah Hawke. Or is it just Champion now?" he charmingly stated, taking her hand and kissing it before releasing her.

"Please. All I'll ever be is just Aria," she laughed. "And what's all this 'champion' talk anyway?"

Bethany chuckled. "Thank the Maker for that. I don't know if Kirkwall could survive if you developed an ego problem."

Aria lightly thumped her on the shoulder. "Be nice to me. I'm the Champion."

Bethany guffawed at this and Aria couldn't help but laugh. The bell pull sounded then and Aria watched Bodahn and Orana answer the summons. The Knight-Commander strode in with a few of the higher ranking nobles, Seneschal Brann included. The room grew silent. Aria stifled the laugh she would have burst with when she saw Anders skitter for cover. It shouldn't have been funny, but at the same time it was. Aria chided herself for her morbid sense of humour.

"I am here to deliver a message," Knight-Commander Meredith barked, holding a roll of parchment in her hand. She untied the red ribbon and unrolled it. "The Council of Kirkwall, The Chantry and Grand Cleric Elthina, The Circle of Magi, and the Templar Order do hereby decree that Serah Aria Hawke is henceforth granted the prestigious title of Champion of Kirkwall, and all benefits fitting of this title shall therefor apply. We humbly thank you for your service, and offer you these gifts as thanks. We are aware that no monetary value can possibly hope to pay the extraordinary debt this city owes you, but we hope these gifts will be used wisely and for the betterment of all," Meredith read from the scroll. She motioned the two templars forward who carried an enormous chest.

Aria strode up to the Knight-Commander and grasped her forearm. "'Twas my pleasure," Aria graciously replied, then turned her attention to the chest. But it wasn't all. Another couple of templars came forward, their arms laden with packages and parcels of many different shapes and sizes.

"What's…what's all this?" Aria asked the Knight-Commander.

She smiled almost too sweetly. "Gifts from your adoring fellow Kirkwallers, Champion. I expect to see you at the next council meeting in two weeks' time. Do enjoy your evening. Please have Miss Bethany back by sunset tomorrow."

Aria nodded and bowed, the Knight-Commander did the same, and she took her leave. Bethany strode up to Aria and took her arm.

"Look at all this! Meredith is positively furious," Bethany gushed, warily watching as the Knight-Commander disappeared out the door.

"She…didn't seem furious?" Aria puzzled, opening the chest. Everyone gathered around to see what was inside.

"You're more important than she is now. Of course she's furious," Anders said, materializing next to Aria.

"As long as she doesn't grow horns on her head, I think I can manage her," Aria glibly stated, and several onlookers chuckled. Inside the chest was at least 500 gold sovereigns, several enchanted rings, a few enchanted amulets, gem stones of every size, shape, and color, and a pair of enchanted gauntlets. Aria swatted the tawny hand that reached for a particularly eye-catching gem of bright green.

Everyone around laughed as Isabela jumped back. "I was just looking!" the rogue pirate captain weakly defended, giggling and bumping shoulders with Bethany.

"I know how you 'just look', wench," Aria good-naturedly giggled and Isabela burst with laughter.

"Well Hawke, I think it's official. You are now the wealthiest, and most lethal, person in Kirkwall," Varric said on a low whistle.

"Bodahn, Sandal, would you be so kind as to take this chest upstairs to the vault, please?" Aria gently asked of her menservants. "Take ten sovereigns each for your troubles. Thank you," she said as they hauled it away. "Now, I'll get to all that other stuff later, but let's eat. I'm famished!"

Aria sat at the head of the giant row of tables and had Fenris on her right. They tucked into the meal with gusto, and the drinks poured freely. It was one of the happiest gatherings of which Hawke had been a part. She was content to let others do the talking; Varric took the reins of course. He regaled them with grand tellings of the battles he'd seen with Aria, and saved the battle with the Arishok for last. He stood on the table to mimic the Arishok, holding two ears of corn on his head. It was quite a bit more colorful the way Varric told it, but Aria didn't mind.

"You kissed Isabela?" Bethany cried when Varric got to that part.

"Uh—no, I'm fairly certain she kissed me," Aria answered the query.

"I've had better!" Isabela boomed, holding up her tankard to Hawke.

"So have I!" Aria chortled back, standing and leaning forward to clink rims with Isabela.

"Now now, we can't all have broody elves," Varric glibly stated, climbing off the table to take his seat to the left of Aria.

Aria laughed at this and Fenris chuckled low in his throat. She worried that all of this attention and invasion of their privacy might put him off, but he seemed to take it in stride. His demeanor was far less pensive and cold, and the light in his eyes was happy. Aria hoped against hope that perhaps he had at last conquered his inner struggles with the destructive hatred he held for Danarius. For the evening, at least, he seemed to be much enjoying himself. He was being treated as an equal, his own impressive accomplishments lauded alongside Aria's.

"So you're part of the Council now. What's next, Viscount Hawke?" Aveline jested from down the table. Donnic chuckled next to her.

"Maker, no," Aria said, taking a drink of her milk to wash down the bite of meat pie she'd just taken. "You saw what happened to the last one."

"Seriously, Hawke. You would do well in politics, I think," Donnic chimed in, his dark eyes lit merrily.

"You won't be so easily…deposed," Aveline supported Donnic's statement.

"Perhaps. The only reason I'd do it is so you would have to quit bossing me around," Aria laughed. "Besides, I doubt the Knight-Commander would allow that to happen."

"I think you're correct," Fenris said, and several others nodded in agreement.

"Well, what's next then?" Varric asked, draining his tankard and refilling it from the cask conveniently located in front of him.

"Dessert. And more sleep," Aria replied, her response drawing more laughter from around the table.

"Touché," Varric countered on a chuckle.

When the meal ended, many of the people of less acquaintance took their leave. It had grown very late, well after midnight, and many of the others present had actually slept the night before. Bethany took her leave and went to bed, but only after Aria insisted she have a bath first. They planned to go shopping in the morning, so that Bethany had more creature comforts to take back with her to the Gallows. Aveline and Donnic left with most of the earlier departees, no doubt to enjoy each other's company back at the barracks.

Anders used the cellar exit as was his usual, and he took Merrill with him. Aria felt bad; she hadn't gotten to spend much time with the Dalish elf as of late, and she rather enjoyed the wacky, innocent presence Merrill possessed. Then she remembered Merrill was still very angry at her for keeping the arulin'holm. Isabela, Varric, Gamlen, and Bodahn cleared the tables and started a game of Wicked Grace. Sandal went to bed before the nobles had left. With the party winding down, Aria and Fenris stole outside to the garden.

It was raining still, but the night air was pleasant, laden with the sweet and earthy scents of the flowers around them. The heat inside had Aria feeling queasy again and this was a most welcome reprieve. They sat on one of the low benches beneath a vine-covered awning and just listened to the rain for a while, content with this companionable silence.

"Where in Ferelden would you like to go?" Fenris asked after a few moments had passed.

She turned to look at him, lacing her fingers with his. "I wish we could visit Lothering, but it is lost."

"Why not Denerim? Or Gwaren?"

Aria laughed at this. "I see you've been looking at the maps."

He chuckled. "I read anything I can get my hands on. Unless it's written by Isabela."

"She's more into drawing pictures than writing anyway," Aria said, leaning forward slightly, her head resting in her hands, her elbows perched on her knees. Her body hurt all over, especially her lower back and hips.

"Even worse," he chuckled again, leaning back against the bench, his hand smoothing down her back, his fingers combing through her hair. "Bethany mentioned rumors she'd heard earlier," he said, his voice carefully neutral.

"Do you hear _everything_!?" Aria gasped, turning abruptly to face him, her brows shot up in surprise.

At this, Fenris burst out laughing, the full bodied laugh only she had ever heard from him. Aria giggled and leaned against him, punching him lightly on the thigh. He caught her hand and brought it to his lips, then twined his fingers with hers and rested their hands on his leg.

"Is this what it's like to be…in love?" he asked softly after a few moments.

Aria turned to look up at him from where her head rested on his shoulder. "Is that what this is?"

"You have to ask?" Fenris queried, his tone reflecting hurt.

"I love you," she whispered.

He quirked his half smile and kissed the top of her head. "I love you." His fingers combed through her hair again, and he deftly untied the ribbon that held it. He gently released her hand and wrapped the ribbon around his wrist. Aria met his gaze, her own questioning.

"I hope you know… I'm bound to you," he whispered, his head down as he finished tying it. He took her hand again and leaned back once more against the bench. His eyes surveyed the gardens, a maelstrom of emotion present in those crystalline, kelly green depths.

"And I to you," Aria spoke in the same hushed tone as she turned his face towards her.

His eyes searched hers. Panic welled within him. This was uncharted territory, and it frightened him, humbled him, made him feel as though he was freefalling out of control. This sweet, sarcastic, quick-witted, lethal woman was his. All his. She made the rest of the world go away. She was his safe haven, his happy place. He never imagined that when he fled from Danarius, he would ever have met someone like her. Much less fall in love with, and be loved by her.

"What's wrong?" Aria asked then, cupping Fenris's face in her hands, her eyes searching his just as deeply as his did hers.

He lunged forward, his lips seizing hers almost violently. His arms crushed her to him. He wanted to get lost in her. He wanted to freeze this moment in time. The beauty of this victorious, rainy night. The way she felt in his arms, her passion equaling his with every move he made. The way her tongue greeted his. The soft moans that escaped her when his lips traveled down her neck. How she let him through her guard so openly, and welcomed his presence, his touch.

"Hawke!" Varric yelled from the other end of the garden then. "Are you out here?"

"_Venhedis_," Fenris softly snarled against the flesh of her neck, sending chills through her anew as his teeth gently brushed her skin.

"Elf! Fenris!" Varric called out again, and Aria heard the scrape of his boots against the wet stone as he entered the cobblestone pathway that would lead him to them.

"We could easily hide from him," Fenris rasped.

"Mmm, we could," Aria whispered in agreement.

"Aria! C'mon!" Varric shouted once more.

She groaned and stood. "What?" she called back.

"There you are!" Varric said, rounding the corner of the statue that had obscured them from his view. He walked over to them. "Gamlen just won 3 sovereigns, so we're all calling it a night. Let him keep his money for a change."

Aria chuckled at this and Fenris came to stand beside her. "Alright then. I'll come show you out."

They walked inside together and went to the front door, where Isabela and Gamlen waited. Aria nodded at all of them, then spoke to her uncle.

"Uncle, you're welcome to stay in the guest quarters. I heard much of Lowtown was…damaged in the Qunari attack," she said once they reached him.

"I had hoped you would say as much, but I didn't want to intrude," Gamlen replied, a quick nod of his head indicated Fenris.

"Don't be silly. Go to bed. I'll see you at breakfast," Aria stated, hugging him briefly. He nodded and bade them all good night, then walked off towards the servant and guest quarters of her estate. All of the guest rooms were well away from her master bedroom, and she was suddenly quite thankful of that.

"Shopping. Tomorrow," Isabela said, hugging Hawke. "I'll come find you and Bethany."

"Sounds like a plan," Aria replied. "Good night, Isabela."

"Good night, Aria," the dusky pirate captain said with a flourish.

"Well… I guess I'll see you around. Come find me if you think there might be a good fight to be had. Or if you just want to drink," Varric chuckled as Aria bent to hug him.

"Good night, Varric," Aria laughed.

"G'night, Hawke."

Aria showed them out, barred the door, then turned to Fenris. "Sadly, I think I could sleep an entire day or more right now."

Fenris tugged her toward the stairs by her hand. "I concur."

They walked up the stairs, hand in hand, and went back to Aria's room. Fenris barred the door once they were inside and he hastily removed his armour. Aria did the same, carefully hanging it on her mannequin. When she moved to take off her camisole, Fenris's hand stopped her. He turned her to face him, wearing nothing but his boxers.

"Indulge me," he whispered, drawing her into his embrace.

"You need but only ask," she replied huskily, tucking a strand of his reckless silvery hair behind his ear.

He slowly tugged the camisole over her head and tossed it next to the mannequin in one fluid, swift motion. Then his hands smoothed down her arms to her hips, sliding her breeches down her legs. Aria deftly stepped out of them and laughed when he lifted her in his arms. He took her to the bed, his body coming to rest above her. She caressed his cheek with the flat of her palm and fingertips, her eyes searching his once more.

"What would you do if the rumors Bethany said were true?" Fenris softly asked, his voice deep and raspy as he looked down into her eyes.

"Which ones?" Aria hedged, her own voice just as soft.

Fenris's hand slipped beneath her and in seconds, he had the clasps of her brassiere undone. "I think you know to which one I am referring."

"That I am…allegedly…with child?"

He nodded slowly, sliding the undone garment off her shoulders. He tossed it to the pile of clothes by her mannequin. "Not just any child. _My _child."

Aria moaned when his lips seared her collarbone with soft, passionate kisses. She couldn't think when he touched her like this. She tried to focus on the question he'd asked, but it was difficult. His lips blazed a trail between her breasts and she arched against him when one hand slid up her side, then cupped her breast.

"That's…if all the battles didn't hurt it," Aria managed after a moment, her fingers combing through his hair as he showered her chest with kisses.

"That isn't what I'm asking," he growled, eliciting another gasp from her when he seized one of her nipples between his teeth.

"Do you even have to ask?" Aria replied, raking her nails gently down his back.

He positioned himself above her, his hands on either side of her head as he looked down into her eyes. His brows knit together in concentration as he studied her. Then, he lowered one side of his body so that he could slip a hand down her belly to the boyshorts she wore. He tugged them down to her knees, with a little assistance from her lifting her hips. Aria kicked them off the rest of the way and yanked his boxers down in much the same fashion. He easily removed them the rest of the way without leaving his position.

"I want to hear what your thoughts are on the matter, because however much either of us wants to deny it, there could be truth to that rumour," Fenris whispered, cupping her face with his hand.

Aria pulled him down onto her, her lips colliding sweetly with his. He groaned when her hand smoothed down his back, across his buttocks, and then to the engorged evidence of his arousal.

"You would raise it," he whispered against her mouth as her fingers incited him.

"_We_ would raise him," Aria replied in the same fashion, sighing against his mouth when he sought to fuel the fire growing in her lower belly and spreading down her inner thighs.

"Him?" he chuckled, suckling her earlobe for a second.

"Of course. Him," Aria giggled, her hips bucking involuntarily against his teasing fingers.

"He would be a pariah," Fenris whispered, rolling so that she was above him, her hips straddling his. His hands sought the curve of her outer thighs just under her waist and he guided her in teasing him.

Aria leaned down and kissed him lightly, provokingly. She gasped when he pushed inside her and her back involuntarily arched. He uttered a foreign oath on a snarl, his hands seeking her breasts once more as pleasure ripped through her.

"He would be loved," she softly stated, looking down into his eyes as she set up a deep, slow, grinding rhythm with her hips.

"That's all that matters," Fenris quietly said, rolling her again so that he rested above her, their bodies still joined.

They made love for what seemed like days, oblivious to the world around them. Here was their secret garden. Here was the world made just for them, and they the only creatures in it. It felt…different…this time, Aria thought as she lay in the dark with her head on his chest. His fingers combed through her hair lethargically. It felt as though they'd reached a whole new level of intimacy. He'd made love to her as if she was the single most precious thing in his universe, and she'd responded in kind.

Aria slowly tilted her chin up so she could look at his face in the light of the dying hearth fire. Their eyes met and he cocked a slow, satisfied half smile. She grinned at him and slid up his body so that she was eye level with him. Her leg rested possessively over his hip. He turned to face her, using the crook of her knee for leverage to draw their hips more intimately together.

"Something's…changed," she hoarsely whispered.

"Yes," Fenris quietly rasped, touching his nose to hers and staring her in the eyes from a hair's breadth away. "I stopped denying what I've felt since the moment I saw you take out an entire battalion of Tevinter soldiers."

Aria giggled at this and playfully thumped him on the shoulder with her fist. "Don't lie."

Fenris chuckled. "I'm not lying. You better sleep soon. You've a full schedule as soon as the sun comes up."

She groaned and buried her face against his neck. "After I take Bethany back to the Gallows, we should go on that holiday."

"You still haven't said where you want to go," Fenris rasped.

"I'll let you decide, Mr. Map Reader," Aria airily stated, her eyelids drifting closed. She was beautifully exhausted and she couldn't remember the last time her entire body felt this good.

"Then, I do not wish to go to Ferelden," Fenris murmured, his hand caressing the small of her back.

"That is fine by me. So long as it isn't Orlais or Par Vollen."

"You'd make quite the interesting guest to Par Vollen," he playfully growled.

"You think they'd kill me on sight?" Aria wearily asked, though her voice bore the undertones of laughter.

"No doubt they'd try," he amusedly replied.

"Seheron?" Aria sleepily queried, stifling a yawn against his shoulder.

He adjusted the pillow behind his head, then enveloped her in his arms. "Seheron," he whispered in confirmation.

"I'll have Bodahn pack," Aria quietly said, her voice trailing off.


	42. Chapter FORTY-ONE

**Chapter 41**

Fenris watched Aria sleep for several moments, his fingers went through her hair, marveling at the way the silken strands managed to reflect even the lowest of lights. They'd been through a private hell, each of them; his with Danarius and escaping the shackles of slavery, and hers with the destruction of her home and the loss of her family. And yet… And yet here they were. Alive. Safe, for the moment, he amended the thought with a smirk. Happy.

_Happy. _He nuzzled the top of her head, breathing in her scent. Happiness was something for which he had never even dared hope. It was a strange feeling, yet another that set his heart racing in panic for second. Would he lose himself in this…this…wonderful, chaotic bliss she offered him? She gave of herself to him freely, never doubting him, never questioning. She trusted him, he knew, and he trusted her. He sighed and closed his eyes then, succumbing to the exhaustion that still plagued him from the battles the day before.

Aria woke of her own accord to sunlight flooding into her bedroom. She listened to the birds singing outside and the calls of people hailing each other on the street. And then she felt steely arms close tightly around her, lips at her neck.

"Good morning," Fenris whispered.

Aria giggled. "Good morning. It is nice to not get dragged kicking and screaming from bed for once."

"It is," he rasped, kissing her cheek.

"I wonder if Bethany is up yet," she said, sitting up and stretching. Her body was still sore, but not as badly as it had been last night when she was so rudely awakened by Aveline. She still felt the unsettling wave of nausea again as she moved to the edge of the bed.

The smell of freshly brewed coffee and food cooking greeted both their noses and Aria heard Fenris's stomach grumble. They both laughed at this and climbed out of bed. Fenris donned his clothes from last night, his armour over the top of them, and he gathered his other clothes from the chair by Aria's desk.

Aria fished some clean undergarments out of her dresser and quickly pulled them on. Then she went to her closet and selected one of the dresses Mother had gotten for her. It was a hunter green sundress with a wide silver belt just below the bosom. She snatched a pair of strappy silver wedges from her shoe rack and quickly pulled them on. Aria smiled when she watched Fenris tie the ribbon he'd taken from her hair around his wrist again.

He watched her twist her hair into its normal ornate bun on top of her head, and she fixed the combs she'd wore last night back into it. Fenris quickly ran a comb through his own reckless hair, then offered her his arm.

"I'm going to go home and get some things together; how long do you figure we'll be gone?" he asked as they alighted the stairs into the great hall.

"How long do you think it'll take us to get to Seheron?" Aria queried.

"That depends. How do you want to get there?" Fenris countered as they entered the dining room. "We're really tempting fate going there, you know. It's primarily controlled by the Qunari."

"I fought the Arishok in an honorable battle. Thankfully, the Qunari are not underhanded, as a whole. Going by ship would probably best. And maybe we can hire a carriage once we reach port. I'm not keen on walking all the way."

Fenris chuckled. "I'll arrange it."

Aria fished in her coin purse and handed him ten sovereigns. "Keep it discreet."

He quirked his trademark smirk and pocketed the coins. "Discretion is my specialty."

She kissed his cheek and they sat down at the table together. Aria poured him coffee and herself some milk. Orana had just set a platter of scrambled eggs and bacon on the table. She smiled and bowed as she entered, then returned to the kitchen. Sandal was setting the table and Bodahn had just sat down to his morning paper. Bethany entered shortly after Fenris and Aria, her hair tousled and she was still in her bed clothes. Gamlen also joined them momentarily, cleanly shaven and looking slightly hungover.

"Uncle, would you mind watching over my estate for the next few weeks?" Aria asked as they all sat down to breakfast together.

Gamlen looked at her in shock. "You're leaving? Again?"

Aria laughed. "This time I'm going on holiday for a while. Fenris and I need a change of scenery."

"No doubt!" Bethany chimed. "Where are you going?"

Fenris looked at Aria and surreptitiously shook his head. Aria caught the gesture before she responded, so she hedged. "I'm not quite sure yet. We might just—travel. I'll write to you when we find someplace to enjoy ourselves."

"Well fine. Be that way," Bethany giggled, wise to her sister's tricks. "Were I you, I wouldn't want anyone knowing where I was going either."

"You're going to elope, aren't you?" Gamlen said then, taking a strip of bacon from the platter in front of him. He grabbed three more.

"Elopement is for those who have something to hide," Aria curtly replied. "Everyone in this city knows my business, most of the time before I even do. No, we're just going on holiday. I've never been. It would be nice not to have the Guard-Captain dragging me out of bed no matter where I sleep every morning to go fight monsters."

"And now Knight-Commanders," Bethany darkly groused, stuffing almost an entire muffin in her mouth.

"It would be no trouble," Gamlen all-too-happily replied. "I will look after things while you're away."

Aria snatched five sovereigns out of her coin purse and pushed them across the table to her uncle. "For your trouble. And, I'm leaving Bodahn in charge of the money. He'll help you fund the repairs to your home, if necessary."

Gamlen pocketed the coin greedily, then smiled benevolently at his niece. "It is good to return to grace."

"Yes well, see that you don't squander it this time, hmm?" Aria saucily retorted.

"Indeed," Gamlen chuckled, taking a bite of a muffin himself.

Fenris ate quickly and took his leave, kissing the top of Aria's head before he departed. Gamlen was not far behind him, eager to spend some coin. Aria helped Bodahn and Orana clear the table while Sandal washed the dishes and Bethany returned upstairs to get dressed.

Once breakfast was cleared, Aria went out to the garden. She sat on one of the low benches facing the front of the hawk statue. It occurred to her that her surname was a good fit. She was a bird of prey. She could take on larger birds and animals and win with speed and cunning. She was forced to see the greater picture from high above, how the world around her came together, how each little cog and nail held the foundations together. And she had to protect them. Keep things running smoothly.

But not today. And not for a good long while. She needed rest from that daunting task that had befallen her. Tonight she'd leave Kirkwall behind for a while. Tonight she'd be free to do as she wished, go where she wished. It would be just her and Fenris. No fights. No battles. No bandits and Qunari. Just them. Fenris wanted to go to Seheron, the place of his birth. Aria sighed. No doubt Danarius could strike there. Well, maybe there'd be one or two fights, she conceded to herself. But she'd end them. Anyone that tried to take Fenris from her… She'd destroy them utterly. No mercy, she icily thought.

Instinctively her hand went to her belly. She would know if…if she was expecting, wouldn't she? Didn't women get sick at first? Aria had never paid much attention; children had never been in her forecast. But Bethany and Fenris had been right. It was entirely possible that she was with child. Oh, why hadn't she thought of that before…before…

"Are you ready, sister?" Bethany asked her from the patio doors.

"Yes!" Aria squeaked, turning abruptly to face her.

"What's wrong?" Bethany queried with alarm.

"Oh, nothing. I was just…lost in thought for a moment."

Bethany took her arm as Aria approached and they walked through the mansion and out the front doors together before either of them spoke again.

"What were you thinking about?" Bethany asked once they were not within earshot of anyone. They walked towards the high-end bazaar near the Dwarven Merchant's Guild, where the best dress makers and jewelers operated. They started browsing the merchants' wares.

"The future," Aria hedged.

"Don't give me so many details," Bethany chided sarcastically.

Aria laughed. "It's just…difficult for me to imagine."

"What?"

"Being…being…a mother."

Bethany gasped. "So you are?"

"No!" Aria curtly replied. "I'm sorry. I don't…I don't think I am, anyway. I would know, right?"

"You're asking the wrong person," Bethany giggled.

"Asking the wrong person what?" Isabela's voice greeted their ears from behind.

"Which is more dangerous," Aria started. "A male or female High Dragon?"

"Well that depends," Isabela chuckled. "But I wouldn't really know. I imagine a female guarding a nest would be much more of a threat than a lone male. Unless you threatened his treasure horde. It's a toss up. I've never even seen one, so I'm no expert."

Bethany giggled and shook her head as she squeezed Aria's arm. "Always so clever."

"What?" Isabela suspiciously asked, taking Aria's other arm as they perused the beautiful wares before them.

"Inside joke," Bethany chortled, her large, brown eyes sparkling merrily.

"Oh fine, be that way then," Isabela chuckled.

They wandered around the markets for hours. Isabela and Bethany took the liberty of selecting a whole new wardrobe for Aria. She doubted she'd wear half the stuff they picked out for her, but Bethany reminded Aria of her new role as a member of the Kirkwall Council. She'd need to dress the part on several upcoming occasions.

_Pfff, not if I'm thousands of miles away,_ Aria scoffed in her thoughts. She really didn't want to sit on the Council. It wasn't like any of those stuff-shirted blowhards would listen to her anyway. Especially Seneschal Brann. Maker, she abhorred that man. He was a waste of flesh and bone, in her not so humble opinion.

Aria made some new furniture purchases, including a new heavy duty safe that had multiple theft deterrents. She hired a decorator to come in and get Gamlen to help him set up a more permanent room for the man. She also sent some builders to Gamlen's Lowtown hovel to start repairs and upgrades.

They went to the Hanged Man for dinner, joining Varric, Anders, and Fenris in Varric's permanent room. Varric tried to sweet talk Aria into purchasing the Hanged Man for him, on the premise that he'd give her half the profits. She told him she'd consider it.

The sun started to set all too quickly outside the windows of Varric's room. Bethany said her good byes to all of them, sharing well-wishes and tears. Aria led her outside on the promise that she'd come back to the Hanged Man when she was done taking Bethany to the place the mages reluctantly called home. They stopped just outside the Gallows' gates and the templars on guard opened it before them, two more guards came out but stood just far enough away that they could still privately converse.

"Do be careful in your travels, sister, wherever they take you. And write me! But don't put anything that could compromise your safety in your letters. All our mail is intercepted and read before it reaches us."

"That I well know. I will write you," Aria said, her voice shaking.

Bethany palmed her sister's cheek, tears in her eyes. "I'm so bloody proud of you!"

"And I of you. I love you, sister. Take care of yourself, hmm?" Aria hugged her.

"I love you too, sister. And you do the same," Bethany tearily stated.

"Ok. I think I might have a boat to catch, and these fellows don't look too happy to have waited so long," Aria said, stepping away and swiping at her tears with her sleeve. She smiled sadly at her sister and squeezed her hand.

"Safe travels," Bethany replied, squeezing back and turning for the guards.

Aria watched them escort Bethany inside. She turned back at the gate and waved before they closed the wrought iron behemoths after her. Aria turned and jogged away, eager to return to the Hanged Man and learn of her travel plans. Several people stopped her to ask for autographs and a quick chat on the way back. She obliged most, until she was a block from the tavern. She waved the last three people off, explaining that she had a meeting to keep. They didn't believe her when she ran into the Hanged Man, but she didn't care right now. She'd done enough for the people of this city.

When she entered Varric's room, just the dwarf and Fenris were present and they had to unlock it to let her in. Aria quickly seated herself next to Fenris, facing Varric across the table.

"Ok, you're in luck. There's a supply ship setting off in three hours for Brandel's Reach. You'll dock in Brandel's Reach and from there, you'll take another ship, this one is a passenger ship for the Carta, so you'll travel anonymously from the Reach to Antiva. I know a carriage operator there. He'll take you past Qarinus to the coast, where you'll be able to take another Carta ferry to Seheron," Varric laid out their itinerary for Aria.

"Thank you, Varric," Aria said, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand.

"It's the least I can do, Hawke," Varric returned the squeeze and sat back to look between both of them. "Will you return?"

"Of course. When I'm damn good and ready," Aria laughed wickedly.

"Be careful there, you two. Tevinters and Qunari abound there, and someone's bound to know at least one of you," Varric admonished. He stood and so did they. "I imagine you have packing to do. Fenris has all the details, manifests, and necessary documents. I had a friend expedite it all today."

Aria ran around the end of the table, knelt, and hugged him. "I owe you, Varric."

"Madam, you owe me nothing, and never will," Varric replied, pulling away to look into her eyes. His expression was serious. "I mean that."

Aria kissed his cheek and stood. Fenris offered her his arm, which she instinctively took. "Take care of yourself, Varric," he said as they stopped at the door and turned back. "I fully expect to see you when we return."

"Likewise, elf. Hawke."

They wasted no time getting home, sticking to the shadows so no one saw them race to Hightown. They went first to Fenris's estate, where a rented cart waited. They loaded the two trunks and satchel that Fenris had packed earlier, then went to Hawke's estate. Sandal and Bodahn were already in bed. Orana was playing her lute softly in her room, singing in a strange tongue along with it. Gamlen was out, probably at the Blooming Rose. He did have money to spend for once and Aria was sure no woman would ever let Gamlen touch her without being paid to do it.

Aria's two trunks and three satchels waited at the door. She and Fenris quickly loaded them, and just as they reached the bridge that the traders used to get from Hightown to Lowtown, a familiar voice hailed them, causing the mule pulling it to rear up for a second. Fenris got it quickly back in hand.

"Hawke! Hawke!" Aveline's voice boomed.

Aria whirled and put her fingers to her lips as her eyes met Aveline's fierce green ones. She glared at the Guard-Captain as she jogged over to them.

"You're not leaving?!" Aveline hissed on a low whisper when she reached them.

"Just for a little while. I'll be back, Aveline. I'm going on holiday for the first time in my life. And you're not stopping me this time," Aria spat back in the same low tone.

Aveline looked hurt. "You were going to leave without telling me? I had to hear from a patrol returning that there was a cart outside your house."

"We haven't told anyone where we're going. And I can't tell you, either. I will be back. We just…we just need to get out of this city for a while," Aria softly replied, clapping a hand on the Guard-Captain's shoulder.

"I understand," Aveline dejectedly stated. "Do you have a time frame of when you'll return at least?"

"Few weeks. Couple months, possibly," Aria replied.

"I'll try to hold the fort while you're gone," Aveline said, hugging the rogue to her. "Be careful."

"Always. I'll send for you when I get back."

"See that you do," Aveline replied. She looked to Fenris. "You bring her back alive and in one piece, you hear me?"

Fenris chuckled. "So long as I draw breath."

"Good. Well… Safe travels, you two. I'll anxiously await your return."

"Good bye, Aveline," Aria said, hugging her again.

"Good bye, Aria."

They left her on the bridge, and she watched until they were out of sight. An hour later, they were boarded and in their private cabin on a ship named _The Cherise du Bois_. Aria couldn't believe it. They were leaving Kirkwall for an adventure all their own. It was thrilling and terrifying.

"Are you excited?" Fenris asked as they curled up on the surprisingly comfortable cot that served as the room's bed.

"Beyond measure," Aria gushed, her head resting on Fenris's shoulder.

"I imagine the last time you were on a boat, it was…much different?"

"Yes," Aria sadly replied. "It was filthy. There were a lot of rats. And the crew all looked down on us."

"Much the same as my last experience on a ship," Fenris agreed.

"And here we are, VIPs," Aria giggled. "And no more getting dragged out of bed by Aveline."

"She is…the most belligerent human being with whom I've ever been in contact," Fenris chuckled.

"She means well. She just…has no tact."

"Mmmhmm," Fenris grunted in response.

They were silent for a long time. The ship left port and Aria could hear the crew yelling to each other above them. The ship lurched as soon as it cleared the harbour, the wind catching the sails fully and surging them forward. Once the initial takeoff was done, things quieted down and the ship gently rocked as it cut the waves. Aria fell asleep shortly thereafter, safe and warm in Fenris's embrace.

As luck would have it, they made it nearly two days out of port before a strong storm whipped over the Waking Sea. The ship tossed about and the crew all yelled to each other over head. Aria and Fenris listened, but stayed in their cabin as they were told by the ship's captain. They had gone on deck to try and help, but neither of them was seaworthy.

"I think I'm cursed," Aria growled as she was almost thrown off the cot for the hundredth time by a huge wave crashing into the ship.

"You? Never," Fenris needled her, his tone playfully sarcastic.

"Ooh, you're not helping. I think I'm going to be sick," Aria groused as the ship pitched violently again.

Fenris fetched the empty chamber pot that was chained to the wall for her. She kept it beside her as the ship continued listing and groaning while the storm had its way. Several moments later, Fenris ended up needing the chamber pot, as seasickness claimed him.

After what seemed like ages, but in reality had been just under three hours, the storm subsided and the ship was smoothly sailing again. However, the first mate did visit them to let them know they'd be forced to make port in Highever. The ship had snapped two of her three masts, they'd lost two crew to the waves, and they were working on repairing a breach in the hull that wasn't considered severe, but could be dangerous in the event of another storm.

"Seheron was a bad idea anyway," Aria sighed when the man left.

"I'm inclined to agree," Fenris wearily replied, the chamber pot still resting in his lap. He looked less green than he had a moment ago. "How did that craziness not make you sick?"

"I hate…throwing up. I hate it as much as you hate Danarius," Aria replied on a laugh.

"Pah!" Fenris snarled. "I was hoping we'd run into him."

"And you accused _me_ of tempting fate?" Aria giggled.

"Highever. That's Ferelden isn't it?" Fenris asked after a few silent moments had passed. He seemed to be recovering from seasickness quite swiftly.

"Yes," Aria replied. "I've never been there."

"Neither have I. Goal accomplished," he gingerly said, dumping the chamber pot out the port hole and using the spray from the waves to rinse it. Aria grimaced when he hung it back up, but said nothing. Messy business indeed.

"I'll write to Varric in a couple days, keep Aveline off our scent," Aria remarked after another bout of silence.

"She probably went straight to him as soon as we left," Fenris mused.

"Oh, I'm sure of it," Aria laughed.

When they made port in Highever, Aria procured them a room at one of the higher end inns in town. She used aliases for them both. They supped at the inn's tavern and then used what little daylight they had left for sightseeing. People glowered at them as they passed, disapproving of a well-dressed young woman on the arm of an equally well-dressed elf. Aria didn't care. Every time someone's glaring disapproval was evident, she only incited them further by showing Fenris affection; a squeeze of the hand, a quick kiss. Every time, the bigots stormed away or pretended that they didn't just glare at them in passing.

When they returned to their room at the inn, a messenger came up with a hastily scribbled note on parchment. Aria recognized Varric's handwriting.

_Hawke and Elf,_

_I'm glad you made it safely into port after that storm. Don't worry, I didn't tell Aveline anything. I hope you have the good sense to keep your travels in Ferelden._

_See you soon,_

_Varric of House Tethras_

When she finished reading it, Aria was giggling. She handed it to Fenris to read while she prepared for bed.

"Word travels fast," Fenris growled, setting the note to flame in the hearth.

"I imagine the seas were pretty swift after that storm," Aria grunted as she crawled into bed. Fenris joined her momentarily.

"Where are we going tomorrow?" Fenris chuckled, blowing out the last candle in the room. It was a good deal colder in Highever than in Kirkwall, and they had given the innkeep license to enter their room and keep the fire going.

"I guess we could make for Denerim. It's been many, many years since I've been there," Aria sleepily replied, rolling onto her side so she could draw her leg over Fenris's hip. His hand rested in the bend of her knee.

"I enjoy it when you do that," he huskily whispered, then kissed her forehead.

"Do what?" Aria giggled, flicking the tip of his nose lightly with her forefinger.

"That thing you do when you throw your leg over me. It feels as though you're saying 'Mine'," he chuckled, leaning forward to kiss her forehead.

"You are mine, as I am yours," she softly replied.

"I am yours, as you are mine," he whispered in response.

They fell asleep shortly thereafter, Fenris no doubt exhausted from the seasickness. Aria woke early the next morning as the innkeeper's boy stoked the hearth and threw more logs on. The sun was just starting to rise in the east. Aria waited for the boy to leave before she got out of bed. Fenris still slept soundly, soft snores endearing him to her even more. She rifled through her chests and opened all of her still-wrapped gifts from the night previous. She stifled a squeal of glee when she saw a fresh new suit of the best armour she'd ever seen. She donned it quickly, and as she pulled the bell for room service, Fenris woke.

He hastily dressed in clean under armour clothes, then donned his trademark suit of spikes. They quickly ate breakfast once the innkeeper's boy brought it up, and Aria and Fenris went to the livery to hire a coach. She perused some maps while she waited for the team of horses to be hitched up to the coach. She didn't really need it; everyone in Ferelden knew how to get to Denerim, no matter where they originally started. Maybe they'd take their holiday in the Ferelden capitol afterall.


	43. Chapter FORTY-TWO

**Chapter 42**

They loaded up the coach themselves, drawing several curious gazes from onlookers. Aria's new armour drew most of the attention. The chest plate was black, emblazoned with her newly adopted family crest, two scarlet hawks facing each other, talons intertwined and wings outstretched. The shoulder armour protruded with small scarlet spikes that were designed to deflect blows. The gauntlets were light but made of a superbly strong, enchanted metal, and the fingertips were imbued with lyrium for protection against magical attacks. The boots and shin guards were made of the same superior metal and had been enchanted as well, along with lyrium.

"Pardon me, I know you're busy with your travels, but are you the Champion of Kirkwall?" a wealthy-looking middle-aged man asked her as they prepared to enter the carriage.

Fenris moved beside her protectively and the man nodded at him.

"Who is asking?" Aria suspiciously queried.

"I am Teyrn Bryce Cousland, and it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance," the man said, extending his hand. He had light brown hair, kind eyes, and the lines around his mouth told of his easiness to smile. Aria had heard many good things about the man, including the sentiment that many held about his better ability to rule than King Cailan.

Aria took it with an apologetic smile. "Teyrn Cousland. The pleasure is all mine. Aria Hawke, at your service. And this is my significant other, Fenris."

Cousland extended a hand to Fenris without hesitation and they shook. "I've heard of you as well, messere. It is an honour," he said to the elf.

"Likewise," Fenris gruffly replied, his eyes still cautious.

"Word traveled quickly across the sea that you defeated a Qunari leader in single combat. Is that story true?" Cousland asked Aria.

"It is. It was a battle for the ages," Fenris answered for her, his arm sliding through hers. Aria smiled at him and brought her other hand up to rest on his forearm.

"I wish I had seen it," Cousland chuckled. "I would like to extend an invitation; you both will always be welcome at Castle Cousland. When it suits you, send me word, as my wife and I would be delighted to host you both in our estate. It would seem Ferelden has birthed many heroes as of late."

"I will bear that in mind. Thank you, m'lord," Aria politely said, inclining her head.

"Safe travels," Cousland replied, bowing slightly.

"Teyrn Cousland?" Fenris rasped once they'd entered the coach and were underway. "He's practically a king."

"He's a good man, if the stories all have it right," Aria amiably replied. "I've heard naught said badly of him."

"He seems a genuinely good man, at first meeting," Fenris agreed.

They sat closely together as the coach rumbled through the countryside. Aria couldn't help the thrill she felt at the familiarity of the fields and villages. She was back in Ferelden. Her home. Every pauper they passed, every farmer, every smith, every washer woman, every child at play, every beggar, and every seamstress—they were her kinsmen.

"So…" Fenris said after nearly two hours of comfortable silence. "Significant other?"

Aria laughed. "Well, I didn't quite know what to say, but I wanted to convey your import."

"I'm…quite satisfied with that, actually," he stated, smoothing her hair.

Aria sighed and rested her head on his chest, mindful of the spikes on his shoulder armour. She inspected several deep gouges. "We need to find an armourer and get this repaired."

"Aria," he said, somewhat sharply, lifting her chin so he could look in her eyes. "We're on holiday."

At this, Aria burst into laughter, the song-bird type that Fenris loved most. "Indeed we are."

"Why do I have the feeling we're both just going to get bored and find some cause to rally to?" he growled after another few moments.

"I don't think either of us knows how to enjoy ourselves without fighting," Aria sadly stated. "What does that say about us?"

"Agh. What does it matter? You're the Champion of Kirkwall. You can do what you wish."

"And you're the reason the Champion of Kirkwall exists," she whispered in response, her eyes following the countryside as they rolled past.

"You give me far too much credit," Fenris murmured, also watching out the coach's windows.

Aria turned to look at him. "You take far too little of it."

He sighed and bumped her shoulder with his. She thumped him on the chest once, then kissed him lightly on the lips.

"Careful—there's not much room to maneuver in here," he huskily whispered when she pulled away.

"I've gotten out of tighter spaces," she giggled.

"I'm sure you have," he rasped, drawing her to him to indulge in a lengthier kiss.

Aria loved this new side of him that only she knew. To everyone else in the world, he was a cold, calculating, gruff, snide, sour character. To her, he was warm, loving, challenging, and beautiful. She smiled at him when he pulled away and she gently touched his face.

"You're the first person to touch me without sending my skin crawling and setting my teeth on edge," Fenris said then, an uncharacteristically open admission. His hand covered hers for a moment, then she placed it back in her lap.

"Hmm?" Aria murmured, puzzled.

"Even casual, unintentional contact from anyone else—it almost—hurts. And I will admit that first night we…made love, it was so. Now…" he snatched her hand again and held the back of it to his cheek, his expression an odd mix of both pleasure and pain, "it's quite pleasant."

"I'm happy for that," Aria softly stated, smiling sweetly at him.

"What is there to do in Denerim? Is it as boring as Kirkwall?" he suddenly asked, keeping her hand but twining their fingers. He rested them on his thigh.

"I've never actually been—at least, not in enough capacity to know what's what. I did go there when I was very, very young, but not old enough to remember," Aria confided.

"Yay adventure," he deadpanned, and Aria laughed again.

Aria sat forward then and dug through one of her satchels. The movement brought a sharp pain to her back, but she ignored it as having sat too long. She produced two books, one a history of The Anderfels, the other a fictitious saga of war, love, and treachery. She handed them to Fenris and predictably, he chose the nonfiction. Aria took up the other, and they both lost themselves to their reading. Occasionally Fenris sought her help in defining words he'd never heard of, but that was a rare occurrence.

Night fell and they stopped in a small village on the Hafter River, just south of the city of Amaranthine. The coach driver told them they could leave the bulk of their luggage in the coach, as it was going to be under heavy guard in the livery all night. The town boasted two inns, and Fenris suggested they choose the less popular one, just to avoid any more unnecessary attention. They unloaded only what they needed for the night from the coach and took their light satchels up to their room. Once done, they supped, and Aria politely asked for water for a bath. Thankfully, it appeared that no one here had heard of her yet. She was grateful of this.

As Aria sat in the bath, relaxing, Fenris laid on the bed on his belly, reading the book she'd given him earlier. She reflected on their relationship, how they were just as comfortable in silence as they were conversing. It was such a stark change of pace. Here they were, simply being together, going somewhere for the hell of it, not because they were ordered to or had to, to survive. She didn't quite know what to make of it or how to feel. Instinctively, her hand moved over her belly as she contemplated these things.

"What is it?" Fenris's voice broke her from her thoughts.

"Hmm?" Aria drowsily asked.

"You've been staring at me but not seeing me for the past ten minutes," he warmly growled, closing the book. He set it on the nightstand and dimmed the lamp's flame. "You're pruny."

Aria sighed and stood, reaching for the bath sheet she'd laid out. She quickly dried off, drained the tub, and pulled on her robe. Then she wiggled under the blankets, and he mimicked her after dousing the lamp. He curled up next to her, his head on her chest. She ran her fingers through his hair and closed her eyes.

"This is what peace feels like," he whispered after a moment.

"I could get used to this," she replied in kind.

He chuckled softly and nuzzled her neck. "I hope we can."

"It's…strange, isn't it?" she said a few minutes later.

"It is. But not…unpleasantly so."

"No, not all."

"Sleep, Aria. We've another boring day tomorrow," Fenris laughed quietly.

"I like boring days," Aria murmured, her eyes closed, her body beautifully relaxed.

They were both awake before sunup the next morning, as was the coach driver, thankfully. They were gone before most of the town had woken up for the day. The driver hoped to be in Denerim by nightfall. Aria paid for two mounts to take, as she was sick of riding in a wagon all day. Fenris was all too happy to agree. It also made it easier on the horses pulling the coach; less weight meant a faster time, and of that the driver was most grateful.

True to estimation, they arrived in Denerim as the sun was setting. Much to Aria's surprise, and dismay, word of her return to Ferelden had already reached Denerim. When had it become so hard to remain anonymous? This was a terrible drawback she had not foreseen nor wanted. Everywhere she went, people waited. This destroyed all of her tactics, and she'd have to readapt. It was maddening.

When they reached the Northwest gate on the Drakon River, a royal escort awaited them. Fenris cocked one eyebrow and smirked sarcastically at Aria as the entourage greeted them. She just shook her head. The King's envoy, Bann Teagan, waited at the front, astride an enormous grey charger. It nearly dwarfed the bay mare she rode up to him. She dismounted and so did Fenris. Bann Teagan came down and bowed to them each in turn.

"Serah Hawke, Champion of Kirkwall and her noble consort, Fenris, it is my perspicuous pleasure to welcome you to Denerim. King Alistair extends his hospitality, and entreats you to stay at the palace whilst you honour us with your presence in our wonderful city," Bann Teagan announced, more to the crowd that had gathered rather than actually to Aria and Fenris.

Still, Aria was pleased that he acknowledged Fenris. And, she'd be saving coin on lodging. Double win, she thought with a smirk as she grasped Bann Teagan's forearm in greeting. "Thank you, messere. It is good to be home."

Bann Teagan smiled widely at this, and offered his hand in greeting to Fenris. "Word of your skill precedes you, messere."

Fenris inclined his head and gripped the Bann's arm. "It is an honour to be here."

Bann Teagan grinned again and clapped Fenris on the back. He turned to the entourage of guards and noble-looking men and women. "Mount up and onward!"

Aria and Fenris returned to their mounts and rode with her between Fenris and Bann Teagan. The poor folk that gathered at the roadside cheered as they rode past, calling both their names. Someone yelled "Birdie!" in the distance behind them and Aria turned in her saddle, wide-eyed, searching almost frantically for a familiar face in the crowd.

Her eyes met with Fenris's and cocked his head slightly, his expression puzzled. Aria shrugged. If he hadn't heard it, she certainly wouldn't have.

"I must apologize; we aren't as well-prepared as we could be," Bann Teagan was saying.

"Oh, it's no bother. I was trying to stay anonymous in my travels. I guess perhaps I grossly underestimated the celerity with which word spreads," Aria graciously stated, though she was still somewhat ill at ease.

"Indeed! I heard the Arishok was as big as the Archdemon itself!" Bann Teagan hooted.

Aria chuckled at this and Fenris scoffed. "Not even close," Fenris said.

"He was bigger?" Bann Teagan almost squeaked.

"Oh no," Aria cut in. "He was about three or four times my size, no more."

"Still, you engaged him in single combat! I heard the battle was brutal, and extremely long. Some said it lasted more than 8 hours!"

Aria nodded tersely. "That would be accurate."

"King Alistair would love to hear about it," Bann Teagan said in earnest.

"He'll have to tell me about his own battle with the Archdemon first," Aria chuckled.

They reached the fortress that served as the Denerim castle about half an hour later. Aria and Fenris oversaw the unloading of the coach, then went back to their rooms. Yes, rooms. King Alistair had given them a suite that was nearly the size of Aria's estate. Fenris took a shower—yes, a shower-and freshened up while Aria went to the enormous gardens the castle boasted.

Several Lords and Ladies greeted her, along with soldiers and merchants. The variety of flowers here made her nearly swoon with the strength of their sweet scents. Bethany would have loved it here. She was just making her way back towards their suite when a voice stopped her dead in her tracks.

"Birdie," the voice softly said from several feet away.

Aria spun to face the sound and her hand flew to her mouth as her brows shot up. "Devon!"


	44. Chapter FORTY-THREE

**Chapter 43**

**A/N: ** _Yes, Teyrn Cousland dies in the original storyline. But this isn't the original storyline, is it? ;) Don't worry, it'll get explained. As for now… Enjoy! _

"Birdie, I can't believe it!" Ser Devon said, rushing up to hug her. He lifted her off the ground and spun her before setting her back down. "Look at you!"

Aria laughed, still holding his upper arms, his arms around her shoulders. "I thought I heard you earlier!"

"Ah, you did! I just figured I'd come to the Castle and see you here. My wife is a handmaiden for one of the nobles," he explained, "And I'm a castle guard."

Aria noted his armour and it was of the Denerim city guard. She smiled and gently backed away. "You have done well! I thought you took your vows, though? As a templar?"

"King Alistair offered me a position with the castle's watch after I helped fight during the brief civil war we endured before the Hero of Ferelden slew the Archdemon," Ser Devon answered her query, his grey eyes shining the way she had always remembered. "Many here don't like him as a King, but I have to say, he's right for it. He may not be as bold as King Cailin or as cunning as King Maric, but he has heart and it's a good one."

"That is wonderful! I'm…I can't even begin to describe how happy I am to see a familiar face," Aria gushed. "And I'm beyond glad you're doing so well."

The sound of someone clearing their throat made Aria turn. Fenris stood next to one of the pillars about twenty feet from them. Aria smiled broadly and waved him over. He strode up, his gaze assessing and calculating the guard with whom Aria spoke.

"Ser Devon, this is my consort and significant other, Fenris," Aria introduced them immediately. They grasped forearms in greeting. "Fenris, this is Ser Devon, a friend of mine from Lothering."

Ser Devon winked at her. "A very good friend."

Aria nervously chuckled, but maintained composure. "So, how is your wife? Have you had any children?" Aria asked, seeking to quell the spark of jealousy in Fenris's intense green gaze.

"We've a three year old boy named Edward Malcolm, and my wife is in wonderful health, thank you," Ser Devon replied as he gave Fenris his own assessment.

"Edward…Malcolm?" Aria inquired again.

"I knew your father was an apostate, but he was a good man. I learned many things from him. He would have been very proud of you," Ser Devon answered.

Aria smiled sadly. "Thank you. I am honoured in his stead."

"Well, I suppose I will see you both at the feast later. I must fetch my wife and walk her home to prepare," Ser Devon said then with a bow to each of them. "It was a pleasure meeting you," he said to Fenris.

"Likewise," Fenris gruffly replied.

They headed back to their suite and Ser Devon left the palace. Aria stripped out of her dusty new armour and took a shower. It was the most invigorating experience she'd ever had. Warm water jets poured out of the faucet above her head, and it drained immediately at her feet. When she returned home, she was going to see about having this set up installed in her own house.

"A very good friend?" Fenris rasped when she appeared from the washroom into the bedroom.

"We grew up together," Aria hedged.

"I seem to recall talk about…a templar in training," Fenris pressed.

Aria laughed and sauntered over to where he sat in the chair by the writing desk at the foot of the enormous bed. She straddled his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck, her forehead resting against his. The tips of their noses touched and Aria stared deeply into his eyes.

"I'm not here for, or with, him. I'm here with you and I'm here for us," she softly crooned.

He ran his fingers through her damp tresses, his eyes searched hers. Then his hands slid to her hips. She gasped when he stood and carried her to the bed. Her robe hadn't been tied and it fell open. He wore only his breeches and a simple tunic. His body came to rest above hers, her legs wrapping around his waist, her arms around his neck.

"Perhaps now would be a good time to tell you I have a jealous streak," Fenris murmured against her lips as they kissed.

"You needn't ever worry," Aria whispered, then gasped when his hand slid from her navel southward, teasing her sweetly. "Oooh you better stop that. We're only going to just get started before someone's knocking on our door and ordering us around again."

Fenris hissed against her neck, his teeth lightly seizing her earlobe for a second. "We haven't sworn fealty to King Alistair. He can't order us around," he rasped, taking off his tunic and then unlacing the fly of his pants.

Aria smoothed her hand up his belly to his chest, marveling as she did every time, that the lyrium reacted to her like it did. He shuddered when her hand slipped back down and she tugged down the waistband of his breeches.

He kicked them off and crushed her to the bed beneath his own body. "Now let's hurry, before they interrupt."

As evening fell, and the first stars appeared in the darkening sky, Bann Teagan led them through the gardens and to the palace's great dining hall. Bann Teagan ushered them to the two empty seats beside King Alistair at the head of the table. Many of the chairs had already been filled with Fereldan nobility.

"Ah! Champion!" King Alistair bellowed as Aria and Fenris strode into the hall. Aria noticed that on the other side of the King, a Dalish elf stood as well. She was almost as tall as the King, but wiry where he was brawny. She had fair skin, much like Merrill's, and a beautiful vine of violet flowers were tattooed up the right side of her neck and her jaw. Her hair was blue-black, like the iridescent shade of a raven feather. Her sharp violet eyes were glued to both Aria and Fenris, a slight smile tugged at the corners of her full, dusty pink lips. She wore an exotic two-piece gown in the most dazzling shade of peacock blue Aria had ever seen. The bodice was separate from the skirt and was cut so it revealed nearly her whole belly. The back was nearly completely open. Her hair was loose and fell in a resplendent cascade down her mostly bared back.

"Your Highness," Aria said with a curtsy. Fenris bowed.

"Stand tall, it is I who should bow to you," King Alistair replied, grasping her forearm firmly.

"Thank you for your hospitality. This…this certainly was unexpected," Aria said as Fenris took his turn to greet the King.

"You deserve nothing less, the both of you. Come, come! I'm starving!"

As Aria and Fenris were seated, she was glad Orana and Bodahn had the good sense to pack a few gowns for her. The one she wore tonight was a stunning number she had let Bethany talk her into buying before she took her sister back to the Gallows. The dress was dark periwinkle in colour. The bodice was tightly fitted and curved up to cover her right shoulder, leaving her left bare. Adorning it were tiny pearls sewn into the fabric that looked like curling tendrils of white ivy vines. The skirt flowed out from her hips in voluminous waves of a pearlized rendition of the colour of the bodice, iridescent and shimmering in the low torchlight of the hall. She'd opted for the simple white ballerina flats that were Orana's personal favourite from her shoe arsenal. She wore the pewter combs gifted to her by Bethany in her hair, piling the top half of it on her head in an ornate, twisting array, while letting the bottom half cascade down her back in its naturally curling silvery splendor. She'd even taken the time to put on make-up, highlighting her cheeks in a pale soft pink hue and boldly defining her fierce amber eyes with black liner and mascara.

Fenris looked just as dashing. He'd donned his trademark black breeches, though this pair had contrasting silver thread in all the stitching. He wore knee-high boots of soft black suede, which had vines of emerald embroidered up the sides. His tunic was emerald green and he wore a wide black sash that matched his breeches across his left shoulder. The doorman had taken his beautiful black cloak.

"I'm sorry I wasn't better prepared to receive you, Serah Hawke," King Alistair said as the first course was served. "All this...ass kissing and hurrah has never really been my style."

Aria almost choked on the sip of wine she'd taken and she burst into laughter. "Trust me, your Highness, it's not my style either."

"So we've heard," the elf Aria had taken interest in said then, leaning forward to look at Aria more closely. "The tales don't do you justice."

Aria quirked a brow. "And you are?"

The Dalish woman held out her hand and Aria reached forward to take it. "I am Ysabel."

"She's the Dalish Grey Warden who saved my neck against the Archdemon," King Alistair said then, and when their eyes met, Aria saw that more than battle-born camaraderie existed between the two.

Ysabel turned to Fenris. "Forgive my boldness, but what manner of tattoo is that?" She indicated the marks that showed on his neck and chin.

"Lyrium," Fenris curtly stated. "They were not exactly bestowed upon me by choice."

"Indeed," Ysabel gracefully accepted his unspoken request to not talk about it further. "And you went on that Deep Roads expedition with the Champion?"

"I did," Fenris rasped in response, taking a sip from his wine goblet.

"Tell me, did the darkspawn seem… More restless than usual?" Ysabel queried, her keen eyes watching his every move.

"I cannot rightfully say," Fenris replied. "We killed…many."

"Blighted Deep Roads," King Alistair said on a shudder. "Izzy, you can talk shop later."

Ysabel laughed then, a sound like chantry bells on a cold, clear winter morning. "One can never be too careful."

By the third course, Aria couldn't eat anymore. She took to politely declining more food, but accepted the offers for more wine. Ysabel seemed quite intent on Fenris, wheedling out short answers from him with surprising skill. As the last of the seven courses was served, King Alistair begged of Aria a retelling of the Qunari's attempted siege on Kirkwall.

Aria gave him an extremely summarized version of that terrible day's events, which occurred less than a week ago. When she finished with the Arishok's demise, several of the nobles around them gave her a standing ovation, Ser Devon included. They also applauded Fenris, and many of them took marked interest in his presence.

Several people around them engaged him in conversation, and Aria was thankful for the buffer it gave her. He seemed to be handling it well, surprisingly enough. He might have even been enjoying himself, as his answers had grown from three word responses to full sentences. Ysabel seemed heavily interested in everything he had to say, and for the first time since they had become involved, Aria felt a pang of jealousy.

A group of chamber musicians started playing after dinner, and several of the noble couples danced. Aria enjoyed dancing, but not in this capacity. She didn't know any of the steps and being out in front of everyone was not something she ever fancied. Her normally introverted self reared its head, and she suddenly felt exhausted.

"King Alistair, I am humbled and appreciative of this evening's festivities, however I must beg your forgiveness, as I am weary," Aria said as the chamber musicians started a new melody.

"It is no problem at all, Serah Hawke. I would have preferred a much less showy evening, myself. Perhaps we could take a ride tomorrow, you and your consort, and I with my adviseur," King Alistair replied with a smile. He stood then and the musicians went silent. "The Champion is retiring now, and I will as well. Please, enjoy the festivities, as is your wont."

King Alistair ushered Aria from the hall, taking her arm when she stood. Ysabel and Fenris followed. "I hate throwing parties like this, but Teagan insisted," he apologetically stated as they left the din of the hall.

"I understand. Not exactly my scene, either," Aria cordially laughed.

"I had figured as much. Not enough swordplay and blood," he macabrely joked.

"Indeed!" Aria chuckled.

"Come to the throne room when you've rested enough. We'll take the back way out of the castle so we can't be hounded by the nobles," King Alistair said then, handing her off to Fenris.

Aria and Fenris bowed, and the King and Ysabel returned the gesture.

"Good night," King Alistair bade them, Ysabel taking his arm.

"Good night," Aria and Fenris replied in unison.

They went back to their suite and they both quickly undressed. Aria wore only a robe and Fenris… Fenris stayed in the buff as they laid in bed together. Aria rested her head on his chest and watched the flames in the hearth.

"Being on holiday sucks," she said after a few moments. She felt rather than heard him chuckle.

"You're bored with luxury so quickly?"

Aria wryly laughed. "After the past few years of constantly running for my life, literally, this…sedentary style makes me antsy."

"We don't have to stay here," Fenris softly said, his fingers going through her hair.

"It's going to be the same everywhere," Aria groused. "Unless we go to villages, small ones."

His chest rumbled again but he said nothing, his fingers still combing through her undone tresses. She kissed his collarbone and smoothed her hand across his chest, murmuring softly as the lyrium brands glowed at her touch.

"I thought I wanted to settle down. Put down roots, as you once said," Aria quietly said. "But I've been running so long, fighting so long…" she trailed off, the words dying on a heavy sigh.

"If you stand still, you're afraid," he continued after a moment of silence.

"Not…not afraid. Just… You're more likely to die if you don't move."

His arms went around her and he kissed the top of her head. "Only if something is giving chase."

Aria turned and lifted her head. She looked down into his eyes. "Will it ever end? Darkspawn, nobles, templars… Other elves…"

Fenris laughed his rarest laugh at this and rolled so that she was pinned beneath him. "Other elves?"

"It was nothing. I'm being silly," Aria avoided his gaze.

It dawned on him then. She was jealous. He studied her face as his thoughts swam. Aria, jealous? Of that she-elf? Ysabel wasn't a mage and she wasn't a slave. She was Dalish, fierce and proud. But how could Aria ever think he'd fancy anyone over her? It boggled his mind.

"I love you," he shakily whispered, as though the words both overjoyed and hurt him.

Aria turned to look at him and her hands went to his face. "I love you."

He kissed her then, a sweet, passionate exchange, his hands removing her robe. When she lay naked beneath him, he rolled to cradle her to him. He just wanted to be close to her, to be inside her, to feel her in his blood. Fenris cupped her face and kissed her deeply, moaning against her mouth when her thigh moved over his hips, the possessive way she did, the way he loved.

Fenris whispered something in Tevene then and Aria found herself beneath him once more, his mouth sweetly savage against hers. She responded in kind, losing herself in his onslaught. This...abandonment, this reckless sea of bliss tossed them both until the sky erupted and rendered them exhausted in each other's arms.

"Now that...that is a reason for me to stop running," Aria whispered, her lips at his ear. She gently bit the bottom of his lobe and he crushed her to him.

"On that, we can both agree," Fenris growled, nipping her shoulder.

"You keep that up-" Aria started, but Fenris was above her again.

"And what? Round two?"

Aria laughed and thumped him on the chest. "You're a heathen!"

"Am I?" Fenris chuckled on a low growl, leaning down to nip her neck.

"No," Aria giggled.

"Let's go...somewhere," he said then.

"Right now?" Aria asked in surprise.

"Yes. Now."

She laughed when he jumped out of the bed and started pulling on clothes. "Fenris, what are you doing?!" Aria chortled, following him, donning her own clothes. He pulled her to him and lifted her, then spun her.

"Let's go," he rasped, carrying her to the door.

"Fenris!" Aria gasped when he set her down. "What has gotten-"

He silenced her with a kiss and then ran out of the room, tugging Aria along with him. They ran. Just ran and ran, until they found themselves on the highest walls of Fort Drakon, overlooking the mountains and the city. They watched the sunrise together there, perched between the crenelations on the battlements.

The early morning chantry song lifted over the rooftops to their ears and the peace of the morning stole over them. This was what they really wanted. This peace, to see the greater picture, to be the ones wielding the strokes of the paintbrush, instead of being the paint on the canvas. They waited until the sun had climbed high enough to bathe the city in its warm light. In the west, great thunderheads rolled in the distance.

"It's going to rain," Fenris said then, breaking the spell that had taken over them.

"And there's Mr. Optimist again," Aria chuckled, scooting to the edge of the wall toward the catwalk. She hopped down and Fenris raced behind her as they made their way back to the palatial suite reserved for them.

"Ah! Serah Hawke! Out for a morning stroll already?" King Alistair greeted them as they reentered the Castle. He wore riding breeches and a riding habit, both done in gold and hunter green. Ysabel stood with him, dressed in similar garb, though her clothes were soft fawn and kelly green.

Aria and Fenris exchanged a look.

"I'll sleep when I'm dead," Aria groaned.

Fenris chuckled and shook the hand King Alistair offered. "Good morning, your Highness."


	45. Chapter FORTY-FOUR

**Chapter 44**

From the outcrop where they stopped to lunch, Aria could almost see all of Ferelden. In the south, great forests spread out to the horizon. In the east loomed the Amaranthine Ocean. In the west, the caps of taller mountains loomed, as well as in the north. The Drakon river slithered through those mountains, a wide snake of muddy water. The sun had been obscured by the pillars of dark thunderheads roiling in the atmosphere above them. Aria regarded them warily. She liked storms; so long as she was inside a sturdy structure next to a warm hearth or in her soft bed. Or Fenris's soft bed, she amended the thought with a guilty smirk.

"What?" Fenris asked then, shouldering the pack that held their food as he looked to the sky.

"It's going to rain," Aria wryly chuckled.

"What was it you said earlier... Oh right. I guess you're Miss Optimism now, hmm?" he snarkily retorted.

"Shut up," Aria giggled, walking away from him to mount her waiting horse.

"So, Aria, when do you plan on heading back to Kirkwall?" Ysabel, Izzy as Alistair called her, asked once they'd turned their mounts down the winding, steep trail. Thankfully, it was wide enough for two carriages to pass each other. Aria was not overly fond of heights.

"I have no idea," Aria replied in earnest. Despite her desire to dislike the Hero of Ferelden, Aria sincerely enjoyed the Grey Warden's company.

"Must be nice to just...get away," Alistair groused.

Aria bitterly chuckled. "After the week I had... I think I earned it."

"Indeed," Alistair concurred. "I am... Terribly sorry to hear about your mother. I can't imagine how hard it must be to lose a parent."

"I heard... Duncan was like a father to you," Aria said after a quiet moment of contemplation.

Alistair chuckled. "Ah, Duncan. He was truly a good man."

"I wish I had known him as Alistair did. He gave the distinct impression of wisdom, grace, and power upon first meeting," Ysabel said. "And, he saved my life."

"Oh! That reminds me," Aria stated then, turning in her saddle to face Ysabel. "Did you know Merrill?"

"The First? We grew up together. I heard... I heard she is one of your companions," Ysabel chirped, her interest piqued.

"She is, yes," Aria amicably replied.

"But... Why is she not with the Dales? I had also heard the Keeper threw her out of the clan," Ysabel sadly stated.

"She wasn't kicked out," Fenris venomously interjected then. "She chose a demon over her clan."

"Is that true?" Ysabel asked Aria.

Aria sighed. "It's quite a complicated situation."

"Bah!" Fenris spat, but was otherwise silent. Aria glared reproachfully at him before turning back to Ysabel.

"The only reason I survived the destruction of Lothering was because of Flemeth," Aria said. "But it wasn't without a price."

"Things never are with that witch," Alistair darkly stated. "Did she ask you about your socks? She asked us about our socks."

"No, she asked you about your socks," Ysabel giggled. "After your whole 'swooping is bad' commentary."

"Swooping is bad. And Morrigan is the queen of Swoop Town."

"Morrigan?" Aria asked, and Fenris leaned forward to listen more closely.

"Flemeth's daughter," Ysabel replied.

"Yes, we know. But also her enemy," Fenris said.

"Of sorts. I think ultimately they want the same thing, but Flemeth hasn't lived as long as she has by natural means. Morrigan is her means," Ysabel cryptically stated.

"Can we... Just not talk about Morrigan?" Alistair said then, his face slightly flushed. He was sweating slightly. Interesting, Aria thought.

Ysabel cast her eyes down and looked sad. "Yes, my love."

Alistair edged his horse closer to hers and briefly held her hand for a moment. She brought his hand to her lips and kissed it before releasing him. Aria and Fenris shared a questioning gaze.

"We are not allowed to publicly show affection," Ysabel explained then, looking between them. "While Ferelden may be far more...tolerant of elves than most places, there still exists harsh prejudice. They would never accept an elven queen."

"It's not exactly a secret, darling," Alistair coughed.

"No. But they are far more accepting of an elven mistress than a queen," Ysabel reasonably stated. She turned and looked first to Fenris then to Aria. "You are bold. There is talk of you succeeding Viscount Dumar. And people know exactly where you stand. Together. They respect you greatly. I thank you for your boldness. It is...heartening."

"I've never been one to care what others think," Aria softly replied. "But then, I've been fortunate enough that most times, it doesn't matter. I have no...obligations, such as Alistair's. And Fenris..." she turned to look at him, and he lifted his chin in acknowledgment. Aria smiled. "Well, without him, I wouldn't even be here."

Ysabel grinned at both of them. "So what was the cost of Flemeth's aid?"

"I had to take a locket to Marethari, in the Free Marches," Aria answered.

"And you did?" Alistair asked.

"Of course," Aria replied.

"The Keeper...the clan...how are they doing?" Ysabel gushed, happy to have news of her kinsmen.

"Well, I suppose," Aria allowed. "Last I saw Marethari... I was assisting Merrill. Or rather, trying to save Merrill."

"Save her?" Ysabel queried, worry creasing her brow.

"She's a blood mage," Fenris spat.

Ysabel looked horrified. "No!"

"Yes," Aria replied through clenched teeth. "She keeps trying to restore this mirror."

Ysabel's face paled. Alistair looked sharply back at Aria. "A mirror?"

"Some old...Arlathan artifact," Fenris replied for her.

"That mirror almost killed me!" Ysabel hoarsely replied. "Please...please tell me she hasn't finished restoring it."

"Not to the best of my knowledge, no," Aria answered. "She asked Marethari for the arulin'holm. Marethari entrusted it to me. I have it locked in a safe still."

Ysabel heaved a great sigh of relief. "Thank you, Aria."

"So, this locket..." Alistair asked, but then his gaze shot upwards.

The rain started to fall then. Intermittent, fat drops at first, but then torrents fell from the sky in cold sheets. They all urged their horses into a brisk canter, soaked to the bone by the time they reached the back gates. The guards took their horses and they retired to their suites to dry off. Alistair invited them to a private dinner in his chambers, without all the pomp and circumstance Bann Teagan insisted upon last night.

As Aria stripped out of her riding clothes, Fenris sat on one of the enormous sofas near the hearth. He'd flared his lyrium brands several times and his clothes were already dry again. She went to the closet where her clothes had been hung and rifled through the few dresses she'd brought. If it were possible, he thought she seemed paler than usual.

Fenris watched her intently, Ysabel's words to her replaying in his mind. The King of Ferelden was in love with an elven woman, but he had to hide it, even though the whole country had been saved by her. She held a respectable position at court and nothing more for it.

The Champion of Kirkwall was in love with an elven man and she refused to hide it. She went out of her way to see him respected and never once had he felt slighted by her in that respect. Aria had not once looked down on him. She had not once made him feel less than equal. She had nothing but lift him up. It saddened and angered him that the King himself didn't have the stones to do that.

"What's wrong?" Aria's voice broke him from his thoughts.

"I was just...thinking," he replied.

"You were brooding," she chortled, turning her back as she removed her wet brassiere. She hastily donned a dry one, red lace that matched the colour of her tattoo, then did the same with her underwear. She then snatched up the soft lilac hued dress she'd selected and pulled it over her head.

Fenris stood and laced the built-in corset bodice for her while she held her hair up. "I was thinking how weak King Alistair's character is."

"A little tighter, please," Aria softly said, then turned her head to look back at him over her shoulder. "He is not weak."

"He is," Fenris growled, gently tightening the lacing. "You never once denied your...involvement with me. Not to anyone."

"I don't have a kingdom to judge me," Aria chuckled. "It's far easier for me than it is for him."

"He has great power, yet he refuses to wield it," Fenris responded, finishing the task.

Aria turned to face him and put her arms about his neck. "His claim to the throne is not all that strong." She gasped when Fenris kissed her then, a short, passionate kiss.

"Stop defending him. You bow to no man, remember?"

Aria kissed the tip of his nose. "I can think of one I might bow to."

Fenris chuckled and his arms wrapped around her waist. "We walk side by side."

"Yes. Yes we do," she breathed.

They were escorted to Alistair's chambers by royal guards an hour or so later. The meal set before them was much less grandiose, and for that, Aria was thankful. How nobility ate so much was beyond Aria. Seven courses was four or five courses too many for her. Tonight's meal boasted four courses, and they all ate rather quickly. When the meal was finished, they retired to the parlor of the King's suite and Alistair offered Fenris a cigar to go along with the fine wine they were drinking.

"What was in the locket?" Alistair asked as soon as the servants had gone from the vicinity.

Aria looked at Fenris, who puffed on the cigar. He quirked his half smile at her. "A...piece. Of Flemeth," Aria answered.

Ysabel sighed at this, and Alistair groaned.

"She's a tricksy one," Alisair said.

"What do you mean?" Fenris queried before Aria could.

"I killed her. Or so I thought," Ysabel nearly growled.

"Somehow, Morrigan factors into this," Aria pried.

"Yes. She...found out Flemeth's secret to immortality," Alistair explained.

"I'm assuming you know this secret, too?" Fenris analytically queried.

"We do. Flemeth would have a daughter, and then possess her," Ysabel informed them. "She's done it for many, many generations."

"Is she a demon then?" Fenris coldly asked, sharing a look of grave concern with Aria.

"No," Alistair replied, puffing on the cigar that Fenris handed back to him. "She's no demon."

"But she can...shift. She turned into a dragon," Aria puzzled.

"Morrigan can too," Ysabel said.

"Magic, of course," Alistair added.

"Ah, yes. I had almost forgotten she was a witch," Aria chortled.

"What did Flemeth say?" Alistair asked.

Aria looked to Fenris, and he took the liberty. "She said we stood on the precipice of change, and when we looked down into the abyss, we shouldn't be afraid to leap. She said something about learning to fly."

"Ah Flemeth. Never very straight forward when it really matters," Ysabel groused, draining her glass of wine. She stood and went to the liquor cabinet and poured herself another glass. Aria followed suit, and they returned to their previous places.

"Tell me about your other companions. You have many, I hear," Alistair gently commanded then.

"Well, being that you're a templar," Aria slyly hedged, her tone egging him on to negate that statement. He didn't disappoint.

"Former templar recruit. I never said my vows. Took the Grey Warden oath instead. You have apostates in your service. Well, so did we," Alistair answered.

"Had?" Fenris interjected.

"Morrigan...disappeared after the Archdemon was slain," Ysabel carefully replied.

"I had heard as much," Aria said. "We have an apostate in our fellowship. His name is Anders."

"Ha! Anders! He's a right scrappy fellow," Alistair chuckled. "How is he?"

"As well as an abomination can be, I suppose," Fenris wryly stated.

"An abomination?!" Alistair almost squeaked. "Anders would never accept the offer of a demon."

"Not a demon," Aria clarified, glaring at Fenris for a second. "There are other spirits in the Fade."

"Yes! Like Wynne!" Ysabel said.

"Wynne?" Aria asked, confused.

"A fellow of ours," Alistair explained. "A mage in the Circle who also helped us defeat the Archdemon. She had a Fade spirit that...kept her alive. It does still."

"So, she doesn't...have mild freakouts where she loses control?" Aria queried.

"If she has, no one's ever seen it," Ysabel replied.

"That's interesting. I'll have to pass that along to Anders," Aria said.

"You keep company with a dwarf, yes?" Alistair continued questioning.

At this Fenris wryly laughed. "A beardless one."

"A beardless dwarf? Now this I have to see," Alistair chuckled.

"His name is Varric Tethras, and he's a merchant prince," Aria supplied.

Ysabel chuckled. "Does he favour the drink?"

"I've never seen a dwarf who didn't," Alistair laughed.

"You know, come to think of it, neither have I," Aria chortled. "He has a vivid imagination and is a wondrous storyteller."

"Perhaps Oghren might know him," Ysabel suggested.

"Perhaps. And then you have the elven blood mage," Alistair cringed. "That's just...just..."

"Oh Merrill wouldn't hurt a fly," Ysabel dismissed his concern. "Sure, she's annoying and a bit of a tattletale, but... A vicious killer? No."

"I've seen her kill plenty of things," Fenris dourly stated. "She is far from harmless."

Ysabel shook her head sadly but said no more on the topic of Merrill.

"The Guard-Captain, Aveline is a friend of ours, along with Captain Isabela," Aria continued with the roster.

"Isabela!" Ysabel laughed. "That sly wench."

"So you know her?" Fenris asked, one eyebrow arched sardonically.

"She taught me the art of dueling," Ysabel replied. "We had great fun."

Alistair chuckled uncomfortably. "She is...an amusing sort."

"Did she teach you?" Ysabel asked Aria.

"No one needs to teach Aria how to duel. She took on the Arishok without Isabela's expertise and won just fine," Fenris interjected.

Aria smiled sweetly at him, then looked to Ysabel. "She never offered. And after the fight with the Arishok, I don't think there's anything new she could provide for my arsenal."

"Of course," Ysabel said with a nod.

"We had a Qunari in our entourage," Alistair chimed in. "Sten. He likes cookies."

"Cookies?" Fenris and Aria queried in befuddled unison.

Alistair laughed. "Yes. He has a soft spot for chocolate chip cookies. Wynne made them for him often."

"You have a mage for a sister, do you not?" Ysabel asked Aria then.

"Bethany. Yes," Aria sadly answered.

"If it would please you, I could have her escorted and transferred from the Kirwall Circle to towers on Lake Calenhad. I hear it's quite...inhospitable for mages in Kirkwall," Alistair offered.

"I will consult with her upon my return to Kirkwall," Aria replied.

"See that you do," Alistair graciously replied.

Aria tried to stifle the yawn that came to her then, but was unsuccessful. "Excuse me," she laughed. "I'm quite tired."

"I am inclined to agree. Shall we pick this up tomorrow morning?" Alistair asked both Fenris and Aria, his eyes going between them.

"That would be a pleasure," Fenris said, shaking the hand Alistair extended to him.

"I hope so. Good night, Serah Hawke, Fenris," Alistair relented. "Have the guards escort you to your room."

Aria and Fenris were both asleep before their heads even hit the pillows.


	46. Chapter FORTY-FIVE

**Chapter 45**

The next morning, they woke to the sounds of a terrible thunderstorm raging outside. A few trees in the garden their palatial suite was next to had fallen. Lightning lit the entire suite and the thunder was savagely loud. A servant boy came to stoke their fire shortly after they had awoken and dressed, and he informed them that King Alistair was holding court this morning and would be unavailable until supper was served in his chambers. He extended an invitation to them to join him and Ysabel once more, but that would leave them with the rest of the day to themselves.

Aria snatched up one of her many books and sat in the window seat by the large, arching picture window overlooking the gardens. Rain pattered the glass so hard it shook. Fenris dragged a chair next to her and read his own book. They had both become so engrossed that it took a serving girl showing up with lunch to break them from their indulgence.

"What would you say if I suggested venturing to Rivain?" Fenris asked as they sat down at the dining table to eat their meal: Brisket masterfully smoked, garlic asparagus, and fresh strawberries.

"Rivain?" Aria asked in surprise. "Why Rivain?"

"I've been...reading about the culture there, and I think you'd like it," he quietly rasped.

Aria laughed at this. "Tell me about their culture."

He cocked his head to the side quizzically and raised a brow. "Well, women pretty much rule there. And they're very tolerant of elves. Plus, it's a Qunari-neutral zone."

"Oooh, neutrality. They'll just capture me and drag me into Qunari-dominatted zones and then off with my head."

Fenris laughed heartily at this. "I'd like to see them try."

Aria kicked him lightly under the table. "They'd probably use you as bait."

He chuckled. "You're probably right."

"I usually am. When it counts," she saucily replied.

They ate in silence for a few moments, each lost to their own thoughts as they slowly ate. Aria broke the silence.

"I really am getting...bored though. All we do is sleep and eat. Is that what it means to be a noble?"

Fenris chuckled at this and nodded. "Pretty much."

"Then, I don't want anything to do with being nobility. I'm tired of dinner parties."

"So, Rivain is a yes?" Fenris asked, his face serious.

"How about Antiva?"

"We'd get in trouble in Antiva," he snorted.

"Why?"

"You...wearing armour? Bad idea," he said, with a high air of intellectual dignity.

"Oooh, look at you!" Aria giggled. "Professor Fenris. I've created a monster."

Fenris chuckled low in his throat. "They'd have assassins following your every move."

"Well, I've luckily become quite adept at being hounded by death," Aria darkly laughed.

"Indeed."

"You know what? Why don't we just...go wherever the wind takes us?"

"I'm afraid I don't quite follow," Fenris said then.

They got up from the table and went to the large Orlesian glass doors that led to the garden. It was still pouring rain and the sky was still very dark. Aria sighed.

"We just... Go. In whatever direction."

"We'd have to hire a coach and driver who'd be willing to just... Follow wherever."

Aria sighed again. "Why must you always be the voice of reason?" she chuckled.

"We could go by ship," he suggested. "And just...stop in every port, book passage on another ship when we've experienced what we wish, and continue thus."

Aria stepped closer to him and wrapped her arms around him, her chin resting on his shoulder. "Planning was never my strong suit. Everything I ever plan just...blows up in my face anyway."

"We could go to Orlais."

"Now you're just being mean."

He kissed the top of her head and his hands smoothed up and down her back. "The last place anyone would think to look for you would be in Orlais."

Aria perked at this and pulled slightly away to look up into his crystalline gaze. "You have a point."

"I usually do. When it counts," he teased.

"Well then, as soon as this storm eases up, we'll go."

"And in the meantime?" he asked.

"Let's go see what the soldiers are up to."

"Why...why can you not ever have an idea that doesn't involve the possibility of incarceration or death?"

Aria chortled loudly, the laugh he most adored about her. The corner of his mouth turned up in his trademark smirk and he bent to kiss her sweetly. The servants came in then and cleared the table. Aria handed each of them ten silvers for their troubles. The idea of people waiting on her hand and foot made her...uneasy. At least not without recompense.

"I'm serious though. Perhaps we could go to the barrack's training room. I feel so sluggish and out of sorts. I feel...lazy," Aria groused, stripping out of the simple hunter green day gown she wore until she was down to her underclothes.

"Perhaps we could spar," Fenris suggested.

"What does the winner get?" Aria said, playfully wary.

"Whatever they want of the loser," he chuckled.

"Done."

"Well then. Let's go."

They quickly donned their armour; Fenris's had been returned yesterday after Aria had sent it to the smithy for repairs. Then they set out for the barracks, which boasted a large arena dedicated to the perfection of fighting. When they showed up, many of the guards who had been assaulting the dummies with various weapons stopped to watch.

Aria and Fenris faced off from opposing ends of the jousting lanes. The rope barrier was down, so they had the entirety of the ring to employ. Aria noticed that some of the guards were taking bets already. She absently wondered who was the favourite.

Aria snatched up two blunted daggers from the weapon rack near her, and Fenris selected a practice greatsword. Aria swung the daggers in a dizzingly fast array of kata, limbering up her wrists. Her blood surged through her muscles in jubilation. She smiled at Fenris as they circled each other, and he gave her his trademark smirk.

She lunged first, but their blades tangled momentarily with a dull clang as he defended. She whirled and spun, feinting and retreating. Fenris expertly changed angles with his blade, matching her feints with his own, forcing her to adapt and move. She stopped abruptly, mid spin, and her dagger caught his shoulder armour. Before he could react, she'd danced away and her amber eyes sparkled, goading him.

Several of the guards clapped at this and the crowd around them grew. Aria was aware of it, but she tuned it out as Fenris launched a series of devastating attacks, none of which landed, but a few she parried with her daggers. Maker, she thought, he was deceptively strong. The last swing of the combination he dealt went low, his intent to take her out at the knees. She sprang, flipped mid air over his head, and landed her own three-hit combination to his thigh and his side before she evaded once more. Her stomach seemed to unsettle and she stumbled slightly as she stopped, taking a second to calm the sudden nausea.

Fenris spun quickly away from the blows she dealt, the first hit missing, but the next two finding homes. His thigh actually stung from the force of her hit there. He chuckled and his brows lowered in concentration. He came at her again, but after fighting many battles with her, he was able to predict her next move and the greatsword came down hard on the top of her hand, forcing her offhand blade to fall to the sawdust beneath their feet. The perpetually larger crowd clapped at this, and several murmured their appreciation for the fight at hand.

Aria whirled away, flipping the other dagger in the air and catching it as she spun towards him. He narrowly evaded the stab she sent at his hip and she ducked under the counter-swing he launched at her torso. Aria deftly snatched up the dagger she'd dropped and whirled once more to face him. A couple people in the crowd cheered.

He assaulted again, his movements lightning quick, but hers just as swift. She parried every last one of his blows, dancing away just before she backed into a dummy. Fenris's last blow landed squarely on the shoulder of the practice mannequin, but he freed it in time to block the blows she would have rained on him.

Fenris chuckled softly to himself and circled with her once more, his eyes held hers, but his peripheral vision kept those whirling daggers in soft focus. As soon as she moved to strike again, he whipped the sword down and caught her in the ankle. She hopped away, wincing slightly, though a savagely sweet grin spread her lips.

"That actually smarted," she giggled, swirling the daggers again. Another fleeting wave of nausea came but was gone almost as soon as it hit her.

"Do you yield?" he taunted, swinging the sword in amazingly graceful fashion as she did with her daggers.

"Oh, we've only just begun," she retorted, launching her own frenzied assault.

He parried her blows, the sound of the dull steel ringing hollowly around them. He managed to deal a swift hit to her side, but her dagger smashed his shoulder in the process, nearly forcing him to drop the sword. He gritted his teeth and noted that she had winced as well.

Aria started circling again, her daggers still in her hands, her primary blade raised slightly over her head, the offhand extended slightly at chest level. He lunged, but she blocked and flipped again, dealing three more unanswered hits to his shoulder blades, side, and thigh.

The crowd applauded loudly at this and several people cheered or hooted their approval. Fueled by their appreciative audience, Aria and Fenris increased the speed of their attacks, though both of them dialed back the ferocity of each of their own considerable strength. Fenris nearly managed to corner her after several minutes of back-and-forth fencing, but at the last minute, she vaulted off the arena's log wall and over him again. He spun even as she flipped and Aria barely evaded the blow he sent at her thigh. She ducked when he swung higher and nimbly got out of the way, drawing gasps from the crowd.

They circled again at the center of the arena, feinting and countering. Aria caught his sword against her offhand blade and with a deft flick of her wrist, she disarmed him. He caught her by the elbow as her main hand blade moved to jab at his side, crossed her arms, and used her momentum to spin her so that her back was to him. He had her offhand blade pressed against her throat, but her primary dagger slid between the joint where his shoulder armour and chest piece merged.

Aria laughed when his eyes regarded the main hand blade, and he softly chuckled as well. It was, in a word, a draw. They would both be dead if they'd had their regular weapons. Aria leaned back in his embrace and turned her head to lightly kiss the side of his mouth. He gently released her, his lips lifted at the corner on one side.

"Bravo!" King Alistair's voice rang out then and he emerged from the crowd. "That was spectacular!"

Aria and Fenris both bowed together, holding hands. "Thank you, your majesty," Fenris amicably stated.

"You both are so...swift!" Ysabel gushed as she emerged from the other side of the audience. "What a wonderful exhibition."

"Here, here!" Bann Teagan called from behind Alistair. "And you help train the Kirkwall Guards? Heaven help anyone who decides to try invade again!"

Aria laughed at this. "I'll inform the Guard-Captain of your praise."

"Do, indeed," Bann Teagan graciously replied.

"Alright, that's enough standing around," Ser Devon barked at the soldiers then, and Aria smiled at him. He returned the gesture and went back to his unit. "You saw how they fight. Use what you learned!" he said to his men.

"I will hopefully see you both at supper? I imagine you'll want to...change first," Alistair said then as the crowd dispersed.

Aria and Fenris looked at each other and realized both were sweating and covered with dust. Aria giggled. "Yes. It seems that would be the most appropriate course of action."

"Fantastic. I'll await you in my chambers," the King said before his entourage followed him back towards the throne room where court had adjourned for the day.

"Ugh, this part of Ferelden I don't miss," Aria groused once they returned to their suite. She plucked a the laces of Fenris's back armour while he undid his gauntlets.

"Hmm?" Fenris grunted in question.

"The rain. It rains at least seventy percent of the time here," she explained, finishing her task of loosening his laces. She spun and he did the same for her.

"I thought you liked rain," he murmured, his voice husky and deep. It sent chills through her.

"I do. When I'm not tired of being cooped up," she replied.

He chuckled. "It's been one day. I doubt you could go an hour without feeling like you were cooped up."

"True enough," Aria chortled, stepping away from him to finish removing her armour. She inspected her thigh and ankle, where dark bruises were already starting to show. "You're monstrously strong."

He softly laughed, inspecting his hip, ribs, shoulder, and thigh. "And you're damn near imperceptibly quick." His bruises were beginning to show as well.

Aria chuckled at this and finished removing her clothing. She let down her hair and stepped into this marvelous thing called a shower. As she was lathering her hair, she heard the curtain draw back. She quickly rinsed out the soap and smiled when Fenris stepped under the water with her.

They quickly washed each other and selected clean garb from their dwindling assortment of clothing; most of it had been taken to be laundered while they were sparring at the barracks. Aria wore buff-colored, soft suede breeches and an emerald peasant blouse while Fenris opted for black cotton breeches and a black tunic with jade brocade lined with silver thread down the front.

They supped again with Alistair and Ysabel, and informed him of their intent to leave on the morrow, if the weather cleared. Alistair seemed saddened, but he understood.

"It's extremely hard to be still after...seeing so many battles," he commiserated. "I often fear I'll go mad."

"Haha! Indeed," Aria agreed.

"Where will you go?" Ysabel gently queried, sitting next to Alistair on the sofa that faced the King's garden.

Aria and Fenris shared a quick look, trying to gauge each other's reactions. Should they say? Or should they remain anonymous? The wariness in Fenris's eyes answered the question for Aria.

"We're not exactly quite sure. We just...want to travel," Aria hedged.

Ysabel laughed her tinkling bell laugh. "Ah, anonymity. So hard to come by these days, it seems."

"Please don't take offense; I have many enemies, and the less people know about our whereabouts, the better it is for us," Aria apologetically stated.

"I take no offense," Ysabel graciously replied. "I understand completely."

Shortly after that, Aria and Fenris took their leave. They arranged for a coach to be ready in the wee hours of the morning, just before dawn. If it was still storming, they'd wait. If it wasn't, they'd be on their way west, towards Orlais. Fenris calculated the distance of the route and suggested a less predictable path, designed to shake followers should it become necessary.

As Aria lay in his arms on what she hoped would be their last night in Denerim for a while, she thought of home. Not her Ferelden home, but the one in Kirkwall. She'd promised she'd write many people letters. When she moved to get up, Fenris gently restrained her.

"Where are you going?" he murmured sleepily.

"I forgot to write some letters. Bethany. Varric. Gamlen. It would be wise to have them sent; Maker knows when I'll next be able to send them."

Fenris grunted in response and rolled onto his stomach. He closed his eyes and quickly drifted to sleep. Aria sat at the desk and penned the letters. They were short, sweet, and cryptic. Varric's was the longest letter, and Aria reminded Gamlen that the gold wasn't for squandering. She told Bethany little; fearful of what the Knight-Commander might do now that Aria was out of jurisdiction.

As the last letter was sealed, some three hours later, Aria scrambled into bed next to her beloved and fell asleep. Tonight, her dreams were nonexistent. She simply slept.


	47. Chapter FORTY-SIX

**Chapter 46**

A knock on the door woke them, as the stable boy was sent to let them know the coach was ready. Aria quickly donned her armour, which had been cleaned and meticulously repaired after her duel with Fenris. His had also been cleaned and repaired. Aria watched as he completed dressing by tying her red ribbon around his wrist, a soft smile gracing her lips. His eyes met hers through the fringe of his reckless silver hair and his mouth tugged up on one side. Sweet Andraste, she thought, he was devilishly handsome.

"What?" he softly asked.

"N-Nothing. Are you ready?" she asked, and a troupe of servant boys came and took their luggage.

"After you," Fenris replied with a bow.

The sky was dizzingly clear above them as they made for the stables. The stars were still out, diamonds glistening on a black felt backdrop. The air was cool, crisp, and clean and Aria took great heaving breaths of it. She went to her waiting horse, who whickered when she approached. Aria smiled and presented the horse with an apple she'd kept from breakfast. While the horse ate it, Aria mounted, waiting while the coach driver took his seat and Fenris mounted his horse.

Just as they reached the rear gate Alistair had told them to use, King Alistair and The Hero, Ysabel, were on their own mounts waiting for them. Aria and Fenris spurred their mounts forward ahead of the coach to meet them.

"We wanted to see you out," Ysabel stated as they grouped up and rode out the gate.

"Thank you," Aria courteously replied.

"Where are you going?" Alistair asked.

"The purpose of anonymity requires that only we know," Fenris stated.

Alistair chuckled. "I'm not telling anyone."

Aria sighed. "Orlais. Via a circuitous route."

"Do be careful. These roads are still frought with brigands," Ysabel said then. "We'll leave you now, but do write. We would be most eager to hear of your travels."

They brought their horses to a halt.

"We will write," Fenris said to Alistair.

They all nodded their goodbyes and Fenris and Aria carried on ahead of the coach, a map lay partially open and bound to the front of Fenris's saddle. Aria scouted slightly ahead, enjoying the freedom of wide open road through beautiful scenery. Tall ancient trees surrounded them as they followed the Drakon River east through the mountains. Wild things existed in the shadows, curiously prowling behind the trees, among the boulders. It was thrilling; Aria didn't fear them. She felt like one of them. It was a profoundly exciting feeling.

Their little caravan rode on all day, with few stops for sustenance for themselves and their horses, and to give their backsides a break. Aria was definitely quite saddle sore when they rode into a very small village well into the evening. They traveled over a hundred leagues that day, and they were exceedingly tired when they booked two rooms. The coachmen said he could go no further, but had arranged for a friend of his to continue with them on their journey. The new hire met them for dinner and Fenris approved. Aria was slightly wary; but consented anyway.

He was a tall, well-built man about ten years older in appearance than Aria. He had skin that reminded her of Isabela's. He had vivid ice blue eyes that saw too much, hiding behind a head of reckless coal-black hair. He spent too much time watching her as they supped, though she said few words; reluctant to give him anything more than what was absolutely necessary. Nevertheless, the man, Jeran was his name, kept trying to engage her in conversation.

"He's trouble," Aria snarled as they locked themselves into their room.

Fenris sniggered. "Of course he is."

"Why did you agree?" Aria queried shrewdly.

He removed is chest plate and set it on the floor with a grunt. Aria realized he must be as sore as she was; he just wasn't as likely to show it. He did seem a tad grouchier than usual.

"Because the enemy you can see is better than the one you can't," he wearily sighed, plopping gracefully onto the bed with a grimace. He leaned forward and began tugging off his greaves.

Aria plucked at the lacings that held her shoulder guards and breastplate together. "And if the enemy we can see sets up an ambush with his buddies, you know, the enemies we can't see, what then?"

"We'll just... Kill 'em all."

Aria burst with laughter at this. "You know eventually, that isn't going to work right?" She plopped down next to him and started removing her bracers and gauntlets.

"I actually think I recognize him," Fenris said after a few moments while they each removed the rest of their armour.

"You recognize him?"

"I think."

"Well, don't be so forthcoming with the details."

Fenris groaned and lay back on the bed, his hands over his face for an instant, then he flopped his arms out, spread across the bed. "He booked passage on a ship I was once on."

"And his purpose for booking passage was?" Aria pressed. She stood and carefully arranged her armour on the table so that it would be easier to don in the morning.

"Evading the law," Fenris rasped, his eyes closed.

"That narrows it down," Aria facetiously stated, letting her hair down from its many twists and pins.

"I don't know much more; at times, it's good _not_ to ask questions."

"Hint taken," Aria testily replied. She stripped out of her dirty under armour and undergarments, then went to the wash basin to give herself a quick sponge bath. She briskly scrubbed her arms and her neck, then her chest and belly. When she went to reach and do her back, the cloth slipped from her fingers. Aria turned to grab it, but she rounded right into Fenris. He gently turned her and scrubbed her back for her before presenting her with the cloth again. "Thank you," she softly said.

"It will always be my pleasure," he replied just as softly. "I don't know much about him. I know he has the appearance of being from Rivain. I know he could've killed me once, and didn't. I also know that he is not a thief, as he could easily have robbed many coffers on the ship blind, but didn't so much as pay them any mind."

Aria nodded as she listened, her hands busily finishing cleaning her bottom half. She dried off and set to the task of brushing out her long hair. Fenris went back to the bed and lay on his belly, his head turned towards her, his arms bent under his pillow. She looked at him while she combed through her travel-roughened tresses and he returned the gaze.

"What's his interest in me?" Aria asked then.

"I don't know," Fenris simply stated.

Aria sighed and put down her comb. "Be ready for a fight."

He chuckled into his pillow. "Always."

She clambered into to bed under the covers and lay on her side facing him. He turned so that he faced her. She threw her leg over his hip and he rested his hand in the crook of her knee. Aria sighed as his arms went about her and as the fire in the hearth dwindled, she fell asleep.

The next morning, they were awake before the sun. They silently got dressed and made their way to the small inn's livery to join up with their new coachman. Jeran was asleep in the driver's seat of the coach when they entered the sleeping stables. The jingling of Aria bridling her horse woke him and he quickly hitched up their four horse team. Within the half hour, they were back on the road headed southwest, away from the Imperial Highway. Fenris was navigating with his maps, and Aria just numbly followed along, humming to herself.

They stopped after a few hours to water the horses and break fast themselves. Aria was all too happy to get off the horse. She contemplated tethering her mount to the coach so she could take a break from riding. Not being used to it, her hips and thighs were terribly stiff and her tailbone was bruised, she was certain. By the time they finished eating their dried fruits and wafers, Aria was still undecided. She stood next to the horse for a few moments, stroking the little bay mare's nose and still humming softly.

"Does that song have words?" Jeran asked as he vaulted himself into the coach driver's seat.

Aria turned to face him for a second, then turned back to the horse. He'd made up her mind for her; she was going to continue riding. Just so she could stay away from him. Everything about this man had her defenses singing. Every move he made had her guard up.

Fenris rode up next to her a couple hours later. "What's wrong?"

"Hmm?" Aria asked. "Why?"

"You're acting like you're expecting trouble. I see no immediate cause for worry. Relax."

Aria "hmmphed" in response and spurred her horse a little faster. He let her go ahead of him a piece, shaking his head. When they stopped to water and feed the horses again, Aria took a few moments to get up the nerve to dismount. The backs of her legs were on fire and stiffer than the drinks Varric poured.

She quickly dismounted, hissing and burying her face against the saddle as her feet touched the ground. She was chafed and sore in places she didn't even know she had, as cliché as it sounded in her own head. She swatted Fenris's hands away when he tried to turn her but eventually she relented and rigidly turned to him.

"We're riding in the coach after this," he whispered, then helped her over to the makeshift dining room he and Jeran set up.

Fenris and Jeran chatted about the lay of the land while they ate. Aria hurt too much to contribute anything to the conversation.

"I have some medicine that would...make your trip more comfortable, m'lady. It's not a health potion, but it's strong enough to take away the pain completely," Jeran spoke, drawing Aria's attention from dwelling in her head.

"I don't think-" Aria started, but then Fenris's pleading expression changed her mind. "Ok, but the minimum dosage."

Jeran nodded and swiftly stood. He turned on his heel and jogged back to the coach. Fenris scooted closer to her.

"Are you alright?" he quietly asked, keeping a wary eye on Jeran.

"I'm fine. I'm just...sore. Aren't you sore?"

"I'm a little uncomfortable, but when I stretch my legs a bit and get a little reprieve, I'm fine. You haven't ridden much, I take it."

"I have...it's just been...many, many years," Aria replied, gasping between words as she stretched her legs. "I feel so weak and I hate it. He'll think we're vulnerable."

"He'll think you're vulnerable. But he'll have to deal with me. Drink a healing potion. You'll feel better."

"No. We need to save those. I'll be ok. Just gotta...toughen up."

He looked warily at her but helped her to her feet. "She's going to ride in the coach for a while," he said as Jeran returned to them with a a bottle of medicine...and a syringe. Aria's eyes widened and she balked from him. The action caused her so much pain that she nearly fainted. Fenris caught her and steadied her.

"Forget the medicine," Fenris snarled at Jeran. "Bring me two health vials and a stamina."

Jeran solemnly nodded and ran back to the coach. Aria felt as though her back was broken, just above her tail bone. Her legs cramped terribly. The pain was sharp and constant enough that it stole her breath, which came in swift, shallow gasps.

"This is not from riding," Fenris hissed, sweeping her up into his arms and carrying her quickly to the carriage. Jeran whipped open the door and jumped in behind Fenris. He handed the elf the vials of health potion. Fenris hastily tipped the first vial to Aria's lips. It's cool, sweet taste slammed relief into her, but her abdomen, hips, and thighs still felt as though they were on fire. She sucked down the second vial without hesitation and laid back in Fenris's arms, suddenly completely exhausted. Lifting her eyelids was an exercise in futility. Fenris tipped the stamina to her lips and she drank it slowly, her wits and muscles responding again.

Aria sat up after a few moments and put her head between her knees. She felt as though she'd just fought the Arishok all over again. She wiped the sweat off her palms on her thighs, then shakily stood. "Ok. I'm better. Let's go."

Fenris moved to stop her but she shrugged him off. She quickly mounted her horse, ignoring the queasiness that washed over her for a split second at the sudden action. Fenris worriedly glared at her from his mount, but they continued on nevertheless.

After a few more hours of riding, they broke to eat a quick meal and hoped to reach the next village sometime just after nightfall. They'd just crossed over into the Bannorn, the breadbasket of Ferelden. The sun was setting ahead of them, turning the vast prairie laid into a sea of fiery gold. Aria refused most of the food they handed her, only consuming some wafers and some water. She wasn't at all hungry. All she wanted was to lay down in a reasonably soft bed and sleep for a day.

They rested for just under an hour before starting in on their journey again. Aria found solace from the returning pain in staring up at the stars as they appeared in the falling shroud of night. Several shooting stars appeared, drawing a smile unbidden from her lips each time. Fenris rode silently next to her, also enjoying the stars.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity of riding into the night, the lights from a distant village came into view. Eager to be done riding, Aria spurred her little bay mare into a loping slow canter. Fenris swore in Tevene and followed after her. Jeran snapped the coach horses into a brisker gait as well, and Aria heard him curse in her language.

They reached the village a couple hours later. It was quiet, and they were the only ones in the inn. The innkeep was extremely accommodating. They were served hot, rich stew and delicious bread. But Aria couldn't eat much of it. She was struggling just to stay awake and not drown in the soup.

Aria went up to their room and went to the lavatory. She started to strip but when she got to her pants, she was mortified. Her padded breeches had absorbed most of it, but as she peeled them down, her thighs were stained red. She gasped and sat looking at them. She quickly counted in her head when her last moon time was. She was two months late.

She fought the bile that rose in her throat. Then she hastily finished cleaning herself up and threw her breeches in the trash hopper chute. She frantically searched her toiletry satchel for the feminine cloths she'd packed just for such an occasion. She placed one in her panties before tugging them on, then scurried into bed. She lay on her side, her back to the door, her eyes seeing nothing.

Aria was no stranger to the pains of being a woman. But she'd never missed a period since the early days of adolescence, when it first started. She'd been regular at least ten, maybe even 15 years. Aria's moon time had started a couple years earlier than most of the other girls in Lothering. It had been a sort of curse. Tears sprang to her eyes as realization of what may have happened burst from the shackles she'd kept on her thoughts since the second she'd seen the blood. It was different this time.

She jumped slightly when the door opened. Fenris locked it behind him and noiselessly strode in. She could only tell what he was doing by the shadow cast on the wall in front of her from the torch in the sconce by the door. He sighed and she watched his shadow move as he removed his implements. After a few moments, he slipped under the covers behind her and his lips found her shoulder.

"Are you awake?" his deep voice rasped softly near her ear.

"Sort of," she replied, sniffing involuntarily. She winced in the sniffle's wake.

"What's wrong?" Fenris anxiously asked, gently turning her to lie on her back. "You are in pain."

"I will...be fine. It's nothing."

Fenris looked sharply at her and smoothed the back of his hand across her cheek. "It is not nothing."

"I just...this is awkward and not something we've ever really discussed," Aria hedged, shrugging away from his tender gesture, only to catch his hand before he could be hurt by her denial. She brought it to her lips and kissed his fingertips, then twined their fingers together and rested them on her chest.

"What's wrong?" he quietly asked again.

"It's just... That _time. _ You know. The one that women have each month?" Aria stated, eyes downcast.

"Oh. Oh!" he stated, then chuckled. "Is that all?"

Guilt lanced through Aria's breast as she said, "Yes. I should be back to 100 percent in a couple days."

"Then, coach while you recover?" he asked, though it was more a command.

"Of course."

He blew out the lamp next to the table and pulled her into his arms, so that her head rested on his chest. He stroked her hair, pulling at the knots that had formed from friction with the pillow. She fought the tears that welled in her eyes. She wasn't going to tell him, she decided. She couldn't. He seemed so happy this past week, with no fights, no responsibilities. She didn't want to ruin that for him. She didn't even know if her assumption, her fear, was correct. What did she know about it? She made the mental note to ask Anders about...the subject when she returned home. If she ever returned, that is.


	48. Chapter FORTY-SEVEN

**Chapter 47**

It started to rain about two hours into their journey the next day, but it didn't really matter. When Jeran hitched up that morning, he'd put Aria and Fenris's horses at the front, giving them six horses to pull the coach instead of four. It would make for quicker going and also be less strenuous on the horses. Aria slept in the carriage, her head in Fenris's lap. She only woke when they stopped for lunch and to water and feed the horses. While the men set up the food, Aria sneaked off to the river with her toiletries. Once she had washed up again, growing more worried by the heaviness of this moon time, she returned to the coach and ate but little. Her stomach was roiling and just the thought of food made it worse.

"You've a fever," Fenris whispered once they were underway again, the back of his hand gently resting on her forehead. "And you need to eat. You're so pale you're almost translucent."

Aria sighed and closed her eyes. "I'm just tired."

"Lying to me is insulting," he gently said, hurt heavily lacing his undertone. "Don't we trust each other more than this?"

Aria opened her eyes and fought the tears. "I'm just...tired, Fenris."

"Then drink another health potion. It can only help."

She just shook her head.

"Stubborn little..." He sighed and looked out the window at the cold grey sky.

Aria rested her head against the window pane. It was cool and soothing against her forehead. She fell asleep again and didn't wake until they reached the next stop, which brought them to Lake Calenhad, and the Ferelden Circle of Magi. Aria ate after they'd unloaded their luggage in their rooms. She sent Fenris and Jeran on a procurement errand to restock their dwindling supplies, then called for a bath. While she waited for the water to warm up, she set to scrubbing her dusty and somewhat bloody clothes. The inn keeper's wife came up to check on her, and she saw the blood in the wash water.

"Oh, child," the woman said as she looked at the water, her kind grey eyes going wide. "Are you unwell?"

"No, no," Aria said, shaking her head and trying to hide the extent of the state of her undergarments. "It's just...that time."

The woman was silent and pulled on some rubber gloves, then set to work with Aria. They plunged and scrubbed the clothes in Aria's sweet smelling soaps. They changed the water two more times before the clothes were all clean. The kindly woman hung them on the line and used a pulley to run them out the window, where they hung behind the inn out of sight of the casual passer by.

Before she took her leave, the middle-aged woman stopped in the doorway and looked at Aria. "I can bring you a tea. It will...lessen your discomfort. And if you can, you should go see a midwife. I know of one who is very discreet, should the situation call for it."

"Thank you. But I will be fine. The tea would be most appreciated. The other is...unnecessary," Aria softly replied.

"I'll bring that right up for you," she said with a sad smile.

"Thank you," Aria returned it. Once the door was closed, Aria slipped out of her robe and into the tub. She washed her body quickly and had set aside water to wash her hair separately. She did it quickly and she had only just finished dressing when the innkeeper's wife returned with the tea. On the tray with the tea was a loaf of fresh baked bread, pats of sweet butter, and a jar of honey.

"The honey's to help the tea go down," the innkeeper's wife said, spooning some of the honey into the tea and stirring it. "Drink it quickly. It takes a right foul taste when it sets too long." She smiled again and was quickly gone from the room.

Aria dashed over to the tray and ladled another spoonful of honey into the tea and briskly stirred it. She was just finishing the cup when Fenris came in. He smiled when he saw her up and about.

"You look...much better," he happily rasped, locking the door behind him. He deposited several canvas bags and boxes near the coat rack. "And you're eating."

Aria smiled back and broke off a large piece of the bread. "I have much improved." She slathered some butter on it, then took a hearty bite.

"Good," he almost purred, then looked out the window where the wash hung drying in the breeze. "You've been busy."

"Just...trying to keep my mind occupied."

"Mmmhmm," he said with his trademark smirk. He helped himself to the bread.

"What did you purchase today?" she asked, sitting on the bed, her eyes going to the parcels.

He sighed and sat next to her, removing his armour as he spoke. "Provisions. A new dress for you that I think you might like. Some new breeches. A new...saddle," he answered her.

"A new saddle?"

"Yes. Of a kinder design."

Aria laughed at this. "A kinder design?"

"Tomorrow, when we set out for the Frostbacks, you'll have a much cozier ride," he softly stated.

"Thank you," Aria quietly said.

"You're welcome, though it was your own coin that purchased it," he chuckled.

"Shall we get some supper?" Aria asked then.

"You're up for it?"

"Yes."

Aria woke up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat. She had the foresight to put extra moon linens in her panties before she went to bed, and that had helped immensely. Aria went into the lavatory and locked the door behind her. She pumped water into the basin and hastily started to clean up. As she was patting herself dry, a wave of nausea slammed into her so hard that it put her to her knees. She retched into the chamber pot a few times, hating each heave her stomach made. There was little else in this world Aria Hawke hated more than vomiting. Someone rapped on the door a few moments later, and dread washed over her. She fought the urge to retch again.

"Aria," Fenris softly called. "Let me in."

"I'm fine, Fenris. I'll be fine. It...it'll pass."

"You don't sound fine," he argued, jiggling the door handle.

"I'm fine," she reiterated, panicking.

He snarled, but Aria heard him stomp away from the door. She sat on the edge of the tub and dabbed at her forehead with a damp cloth. She arranged herself using the small looking glass mounted over the basin, then walked slowly out to the room. Fenris sat on the bed facing her, his elbows on his knees, his face in his hands. His eyes spat cold, green sparks.

"Aria...we can't keep doing this to each other," Fenris whispered, wringing his hands together as he sat up straight and faced her fully.

Tears sprang to her eyes. "I know. I just... I'm ok."

"I can smell the blood," he whispered. "I have for the past couple of days."

"It's just that time, Fenris-"

"Don't treat me as a fool. I know what your normal is and I've never... Do not...lie to me."

Aria sank to her knees in front of him, hating herself for the pain she'd caused him. "I don't... I don't know what to say. I don't even know what's going on, myself."

He cupped her face in his trembling hands and his eyes were unnaturally bright and watery. She realized he was fighting tears himself. He bit his bottom lip and winced as she opened her eyes and met his gaze. "What is your body telling you?"

Aria slowly shook her head. "I don't want to think about it."

Fenris sighed again and dragged her to him. He kissed the top of her head. "We can try again. When we are less...busy."

Aria couldn't stand thinking about it and his words were lances straight to her heart. A failure. Again, she had failed. She should have known. The signs were there... She should have...

Her next thought was stolen from her as his lips claimed hers.

"You did not know," he whispered against her mouth. He kissed her again. "You did not know. You fought the Arishok, you've been...under extreme duress." He kept kissing her, taking her tears with his lips.

A knock on the door startled them and Aria struggled to her feet. Fenris pulled a pair of breeches on, then raced to answer it. It was Jeran.

"Ah, up already. Good. I am getting the team ready, and wanted to know if I should hook your horses to the coach, or if you'll be riding them today?"

Fenris looked at Aria, then back at Jeran. "We'll be in the coach today, I think."

"Very good. I'll hitch them up."

Fenris closed the door after him and they quickly got dressed. The innkeep and his wife gave them hot breakfast to take with them, and the woman gave Aria a large flask of the tea and a bottle of honey to take as well. She hugged Aria and told her to take care. Aria slipped a few gold sovereigns into the woman's house coat pocket as they embraced. It was the least she could do at this point for the woman's discretion and kindness.

"You told the innkeeper's wife but you didn't tell me?" Fenris venomously whispered once they were underway.

"I didn't tell her. She surmised it on her own. She...found me washing my linens," Aria replied, shivering under the iciness of his gaze. "I wasn't lying. I thought... I thought..."

"No more on the matter. It is done," he whispered, reaching for one of her hands. "Perhaps... Perhaps we should consider going home."

"No. I don't want to go back there. Not yet. It's so... Sad. Empty."

"Then, you wish to stay on the road?"

"To Orlais. Yes."

"Will you promise me one thing?" Fenris solemnly asked, taking her other hand.

"That depends," Aria hedged.

"We will continue on this...this...wayward journey on the condition that at whatever village or town or city or...outpost we stay in tonight, you will allow yourself to be seen by a physician or a midwife."

Aria sighed and squeezed his hands. "Ok. But if they tell me I can't travel anymore I'm going to be very..."

"Angry. I know. I can handle you angry."

"Can you?" Aria jibed playfully.

He growled and mussed her hair, which she'd left down today. "Of course."

In the essence of efficiency, Jeran brought them back to the Imperial Highway. They followed behind a merchant and his swift team of ponies. They broke for lunch with the dwarven merchant and he told them of the civil unrest in Orzammar. He had his own theories about the sudden increase in tension between the dwarven nobles, and this piqued Aria's interest.

The merchant, Timerik by name, said that there was talk of dwarven resilience fading. Several dwarves had come down with mysterious illnesses, where they acted as though they were possessed. The dwarves were falling prey to the evils of magic, where as a race, they had appeared to be immune. He told them of a girl from Orzammar who had been accepted into the Ferelden Circle of Magi; something the Hero of Ferelden had a hand in accomplishing. He figured it was only a matter of time before there were dwarf mages and then...well that would be the end of the world.

Fenris was highly agitated by this new information. The spread of magic was the most evil thing that could ever occur in the elf's eyes. While Aria could not blame him, it still saddened her that he had been so scarred by something she had always held to be a force of good. Aria wisely left the topic alone, content to simply be the mute observer. Timerik eyed her warily when he spoke of mages, his fear that she was an apostate evident. The sentiment made her want to laugh.

The discomfort Aria had felt, the heaviness in her lower abdomen, the searing pain in her spine and hips, and the queasiness of her stomach was gone by the time they made the next village just before nightfall. It was a busy place nestled just off the Imperial Highway in a forest glen. Aria had never been so happy to see ladies of the night in her life. She managed to corner a dusky skinned, yellow-eyed, gorgeous young girl outside when she took leave to imbibe in her nicotine addiction.

"You don't look the type to need that kind of service, honey. Aren't you well off or something?" the girl, Lillith, said when Aria asked about a discreet midwife.

"It's not that," Aria shyly responded. "I think... I think I had a miscarriage. I promised my...significant other that I'd seek a midwife out whence upon we stopped for the evening."

The girl's odd yellow eyes took a sad light and she gently laid a hand on Aria's belly over her armour. "You live too hard a life to be carrying a child," she whispered forlornly. "Come with me. Let's see what Telindra can do for you."

Aria followed the girl to a small building a few blocks down the muddy street. They employed a back entrance and the girl led her down into a clinic that very much reminded her of Anders's own clinic. An old elven woman stood in front of the hearth. She turned when she heard them, her green eyes flashed.

"You've got some nerve Lillith-" the elf started, but then her eyes landed on Aria. "I see. Come child. What ails you?"

Aria let herself be ushered to the examination table. She fought the urge to fight when the elf started taking off her armour. Aria did swat the woman's hand when she moved to unlace her breeches. "Sorry... I'm just... Here. I'll do it."

The woman chuckled and waited while Aria took the breeches off. The elf threw a sheet over her legs and waved Lillith away. She grabbed a small leather wallet thing and opened it. An array of smallish instruments whose uses Aria had no idea about lay within.

"How late are you?" the elf asked, her bright green eyes boring into Aria's amber ones.

"I—I don't know. Two months?"

"You don't keep track?!" the woman asked, clicking her tongue. "I'm Telindra, by the way. I won't ask your name; you don't seem to be ready to supply it anyway."

"Aria. Aria Hawke," Aria slowly replied.

"Ah, the Champion of Kirkwall. If it's been two months... For the love of Andraste, girl! You fool! Fighting horn-heads whilst pregnant... How on earth could you ever think that was a good idea?!"

"I didn't know... My life has been a mess lately," Aria said then, feeling like she was taking a harsh scolding from her mother as a child again. She couldn't stem the flow of tears that started.

"Oh, oh, don't cry, little dove," the elven woman said then, her tone soothing and sweet. "We'll get this sorted out."

"Sorted out?" Aria asked in trepidation.

"We need to see what's what. Lay back and relax. I need to have a listen," Telindra said, gently pushing Aria back on the examination table. She shoved a pillow under the rogue's head. Her hands started to glow white-blue, like Anders's hands did when he healed someone. Aria could feel a soothing heat wash over her abdomen. "Ah, there."

"What?" Aria asked.

Telindra shook her head, her face grim. "Do you truly wish to know?"

"I do," Fenris's voice came from the door way. He stepped out of the shadows and joined them, his expression one of acute worry and anger. "I told you to wait for me."

"Ah, the father," Telindra said then. "Well, now that you're both here..."

"Out with it, witch," Fenris spat.

"Fenris!" Aria reprimanded him. "She's helping."

Telindra sadly shook her head. "All I can do is give you moon tea, child."

"I've been drinking it already," Aria quietly replied.

"Moon tea?" Fenris asked, his visage growing angry. "You've been drinking moon tea!"

"Do you love her?" Telindra rounded on Fenris, stepping between him and Aria, her own green eyes just as fierce as his.

"Yes!"

"Then moon tea was necessary to save her life or you'd have lost them both!" Telindra snarled at him, her pewter hair flashing red for just an instant. "You're lucky she was drinking it when she was! She seems to be recovering already."

Fenris looked to Aria then, but Telindra's words had rendered the rogue momentarily out of commission. Aria lay very still as the shock of the words ripped through her. She'd tried not to think them. Hearing it said made it...final. Telindra stepped out of the way so Fenris could kneel next to the table. He took Aria's hands in his and rested his head on her abdomen.

"The babe had no chance. Her body could not sustain both him and herself," Telindra quietly said after a few moments. She handed Aria her breeches and waited while she numbly donned them.

Fenris was silent and still as he watched Aria dazedly put her armour back on. Aria gave the woman two gold coins for her trouble, and the woman sent another flask of the moon tea with them. Lillith waited at the entrance for them, eager to know of Aria's plight. Her face fell when she saw the Champion, and she quickly raced back to work. She kept her mouth shut, surprisingly, and when Aria and Fenris did return to the inn, she steered clear of them.

They went straight up to their room, not saying a word to each other the entire time. Aria sat on the bed and stared out at the deepening night sky that adorned the window pane. She wasn't aware she was crying until her knees hit the floor. She fell forward and held her lower belly, silent sobs racking her entire body.

Fenris knelt beside her a moment later, but she couldn't understand his words. Her head hummed and her stomach roiled. Her worst fears had been confirmed. She was officially the most abysmal failure to have ever walked Thedas. She couldn't save anyone that mattered. And this failure...this failure didn't hurt just her. She'd lost Fenris's child. Their child.

How could she ever forgive herself? How could Fenris ever forgive her?


	49. Chapter FORTY-EIGHT

**Chapter 48**

The new saddle proved to be a wonderful asset, as Aria refused to ride in the coach anymore. Aria rode well ahead of Jeran and Fenris. She couldn't stand to be near anyone at all, save Fenris. They'd been riding for nearly two weeks now, and they would reach the city of Montsimmard by nightfall. Aria hardly spoke to anyone but her horse, whom she had named Belle. She'd become reclusive. Silent.

She slept next to Fenris every night, but they rarely spoke. Aria kept her distance from him everywhere else. She couldn't take the pain in his eyes, the steeliness of his demeanor. Their silences used to be so comfortable; now they were tormented. When they did speak, it was quipped but polite conversation that served utilitarian purposes. Where they had to get before nightfall. What supplies they needed. Nothing personal, nothing loving. Cold. Clinical.

Despite the unrest that plagued Montsimmard in the wake of recently escalated tensions with Ferelden, the city was happy, festive, and alive. Aria went to many taverns, where she danced and drank entire nights away. She refused to let the Orlesian women dress her up or make her wear those ridiculous masks the nobility there seemed to favour but it didn't stop her from joining whole-heartedly in the festivities. She felt her spirit lift in this city of festive joy. Everything was so pretty, to the point of being gaudy and overdone in most cases. Aria wondered how in the world someone like Aveline could have relatives in this country. It was far less solemn than Ferelden and the Free Marches. The Orlesians knew how to _live_.

After two weeks in Montsimmard, Aria was bitten by the travel bug again. Jeran and Fenris followed her around the southern coast of Lake Celestine. They stayed in Velun, then Val Royeaux, and eventually, they headed back east towards the Free Marches. Aria wrote short letters to all of her companions back home in Kirkwall, letting them know she'd be home within the month. She also wrote to King Alistair and Ysabel, outlining her travels and wishing them well. In her letter to them, she issued an invitation that should they ever visit Kirkwall, she'd be happy to keep them in her home for their stay. Given their preferences, Aria was certain they'd take her up on her offer.

It was very late in the evening when they reached Kirkwall again, after nearly three months of being gone. Bodahn, Sandal, and Orana helped unload the coach at Aria's estate, then Jeran and Fenris continued from there to Fenris's mansion. Bodahn took her horse to the Hightown livery for her. Aria was her normal silent self and went to her chambers as soon as was socially acceptable, using her weariness as justification to do so. She drew water for a bath and set it to heating on the coals and then picked up her journal.

She re-read the last five or six entries, heartbreak returning anew as the death toll of her loved ones chimed in her head. Father. Carver. Mother. And an infant. Her son. Telindra had used the word 'he'. Aria lost a son. Fenris's son. She couldn't write about that. Not yet, anyway.

Orana came in to check on the water and brought her a freshly made bunch of soaps and lotions from Bethany. "You look...fierce, Mistress. I trust your travels went very well?"

"Fierce? That's...interesting," Aria softly replied, pulling her robe more closely about her.

"I meant it as a compliment, Mistress. You look in fighting shape. Hale. Robust. And very, very beautiful."

Aria laughed slightly at this. "You are too kind, Orana. How is that water?"

"Not as hot as you would like, I'm sure," she giggled. "Best leave it on for a few more moments."

"Thank you, Orana."

"Will that be all, Mistress?"

"Yes. Don't worry for me. Go to bed. You have done far too much for me this evening as it is," Aria sadly stated.

"Good night, Mistress."

"Orana... Call me Aria. Or Hawke. Please. I don't much care for the title," Aria quietly said.

"O-of course! Aria. Good night, Aria," Orana replied with a curtsy. She smiled widely, her jewel-like eyes glittering in the light of the hearth before she left the room.

Aria closed the door behind her and went over to sit on her bed. She contemplated the embers in the fireplace as they glowed about the kettles. Several moments passed and in those moments Aria thought of everything, and nothing. Her body was weary, yes, but every muscle fiber tensed in anxiety. Much of their travels seemed a blur to her after Telindra confirmed her worst fears. She drowned the time and pain away, lost herself in the joyous celebrations of others, and moved on when she pleased.

But here. Now. In the warm recesses of her private chambers, she was alone to deal with the pain. Part of her told her she was being silly. They could try again, couldn't they? And another part of her told her this would likely happen again, that she had to change lifestyles before that could ever occur. Still another part of her screamed in agony at the failure, the loss. She had been pregnant, and she didn't know. She had never gotten sick, not like she had always heard a woman did when with child. She had been so focused on everything else in her life that she lost track of her own health.

She got up and filled her tub, then prepared herself for bathing. Aria contemplated the ceiling as the thick foam surrounded her. She realized the scent she had chosen was the one that Fenris had given her the materials for many months ago, on her last birthday. Almost a year ago, in fact. Maker's breath, her birthday was going to be coming up soon.

The thought brought her to tears again and she couldn't help the way her body curled in on itself, her arms secured around her knees. How could she deal with this? Out there on the road, she was constantly distracted from thinking or feeling anything but the here and now. There was no time to dwell, or to reflect. There was just... Action.

Here, in her little safe haven of luxury, that's all she had time to do. She felt as though if she were to move, if her hands were to slip, her entire being would fly to pieces. She had never given the idea of children much attention. She had always assumed Bethany would be the mother with a gaggle of kids. Now that she had conceived and lost one, thoughts of what might have been overwhelmed her.

What would he have looked like? Would he have her amber eyes or Fenris's emerald eyes? Would he be fair of skin? Would he have had a beautiful voice? What would his laugh sound like? What would his name have been?

That last thought shattered her. She sobbed into her knees, clutching them tighter against her as the water covered her chin and mouth. She wept for some time, every minute dragging by with excruciating slowness. He should have had a name. Something written. Something tangible.

Gingerly, Aria stretched out in the tub. Exhaustion slammed into her with the force of a gaatlok bomb. She finished washing and rinsing quickly. Once her hair was wrapped in a soft towel and she'd donned her robe, Aria slipped beneath the covers and finally fell asleep.

For the next few days, Aria was content to remain in her chambers. She received only her closest friends. Bodahn fielded several polite declinations for Aria, who received many invitations to nobles' events. Isabela was the first to call on her and Aria gave her a few new items of fine jewelry she had bought with the pirate captain in mind. Merrill came the following day but her visit was brief; she was still angry Hawke had kept the arulin'holm. Varric was there nearly every evening for supper. Finally, Varric decided to call Aria out on her reclusiveness.

"Dammit Aria," Varric said as Bodahn and Orana cleared the table and fetched dessert.

Aria quizzically looked over at him. "What?"

"I get the need for secrecy, but if you don't tell me what the hell happened while you were in Orlais, I'm going to have to torture you for answers. The elf won't talk," Varric quipped in good humour.

Aria sighed. "There's nothing to be told."

"Bullshit!" Varric roared, nearly unsettling his chair as he abruptly stood.

Aria jumped slightly and instinctively pushed her chair back from the table. "Why do you have to know? It's not something I want published in the next guard quarterly!"

"I don't publish every sordid sodding detail of your life!"

She sighed. "Let's go in the study after dessert. I'll tell you."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Orana had baked a beautiful apple pie for dessert. Varric was so impressed with it he ate two big pieces. Aria tried her best to finish her piece, just to please Orana. Her appetite had greatly waned these past several days. When they finished, Aria and Varric retreated to her upstairs study.

They sat near the hearth and Aria poured them each a glass of her favourite wine. She sat next to Varric and took a sip of it before she spoke.

"When we were on our way out of Ferelden, I took ill," Aria quietly stated, her eyes fixed on the stem of the glass as she rotated it between her fingers. "I took ill in a way that only a woman can."

"I'm afraid you'll have to be clearer than that, Aria," Varric kindly stated, leaning forward towards her as he spoke.

"I was pregnant before I fought the Arishok," she whispered, the last word falling on a soft, restrained sob.

Varric sat back and sighed heavily. "Oh Maker," he tenderly said, "I'm so sorry."

Aria failed to rein in the next sob and she abruptly stood. She paced over to one of the tables and pulled out a kerchief. She dabbed her eyes and blew her nose before she sat back down.

"It would have been a boy, this apostate midwife told me," Aria managed after a moment. "Fenris and I had a son we never got to hold. Never got to meet."

Varric leaned forward and clutched her hand. "I know... I know it must be hard, but Aria—you can try again."

Aria vigorously shook her head. "No... No, I'm pretty sure Fenris hates me. Or at least...is disappointed in me. I think that's worse."

Varric shook his head and squeezed her hand. "That elf is absolutely fucking crazy about you. I honestly think, and this is no exaggeration madame, that you're the only thing in this world he gives a shit about. The only thing."

Aria lifted her gaze and met his. Tears fell silently down her cheeks in hot rivulets. "I failed him, too."

"You didn't fail him. You have never failed. Hawke, how you survive is beyond me. I know you. I know you're the most skillful, resourceful, ambitious, biggest hearted person I've ever met. You did not fail. The world failed you."

Aria broke down crying again and Varric engulfed her in a hug. They pulled apart when Bodahn came up the stairs, followed closely by Anders. Maker, Aria thought as the apostate healer joined them, he looked bad. There were hollows under his eyes and they were glassy. His hair was limp, and though it was clean, lacked any sort of luster at all. He appeared to have lost quite a bit of weight, though his movements where crisp and precise.

"Why are you crying?" Anders asked once Bodahn was out of earshot, and he strode immediately up to her. "There's so much speculation going on."

"Do you want to tell him or do you want me to do it?" Varric quietly asked her.

"I will," Aria whispered. She looked up at Anders and took a deep drink from her glass. "Before I fought the Arishok, I was pregnant."

"What?" Anders asked in horror. "Oh Aria, no... Did you know?"

Aria shook her head and bit her lip to keep from weeping. She took several deep, calming breaths before she was able to continue. "When we left Ferelden for Orlais, I fell terribly ill."

"Say no more," Anders kindly stated. "I've heard of and seen the terrible events before and I grieve for you."

Aria sobbed a few times before she could get a grip again. "It was...it was a boy," she managed, then completely broke down. Anders and Varric both held her, soothingly stroking her hair or reassuring her.

"How did you know it was a boy?" Anders asked after a few moments.

Aria swiped angrily at her tears and snotty nose. "An apostate midwife told me."

At this, Anders sighed. "If you'll permit me, I can run back to my clinic via your shortcut and fetch some things that will ease your discomfort and also make you more fertile in the process."

Aria shook her head. "That was...a couple months ago at least. I'm normal."

"And your cycles?"

"Really? You're asking-"

"As a physician," Anders gently replied.

"Heavier than normal, but on time," Aria whined. "I really don't want to talk about this. Not... Not with you two."

Varric sighed and finished his glass of wine, then bowed. "I'll take my leave, madame. But you really should talk to him. And the elf. I can't believe I said that." With that, Varric took his leave, and Aria and Anders sat across from each other at the desk.

"What happened?" Anders asked, reaching across the table to grasp her hand.

She squeezed back in response and hung her head. "When we left Denerim for Orlais, I took ill. And I was...bleeding. Horrendously. Health potions seemed to help but nowhere near as well as they should have."

"They're not meant for sustaining two lives at once," Anders gently said.

"I didn't know!"

"It's ok. Then what happened?"

"An innkeeper walked in on me washing my clothes and she helped me. Then she gave me moon tea."

Anders nodded. "The wisest decision. It was most likely going to die anyway, as much as it grieves me to say. Aria, this isn't your fault. You can't blame yourself. And Fenris... Varric is right. You need to talk to him."

Aria looked up into his warm, caramel eyes and he offered her a kind smile. "It's odd to hear you say that."

Anders squeezed her hand again. "You love him. He loves you. You...complement each other. And I cannot bear to see you unhappy."

"I hate this! I feel so...so..." she abruptly stood, unsettling the chair and sending it clattering to the floor. She kicked it. "Weak! And... and... Damaged!"

"You are not weak. You are not damaged," Anders gently said as he stood. He picked up the chair and righted it, then enveloped her in a friendly hug.

Aria felt the healing white light flow through her. She closed her eyes and leaned against him while he worked. Her lower belly felt as though she'd just done a line of shots; warm, almost hot, tingly. After a moment, he pulled away to look at her and Aria was startled to see tears in his eyes.

"If you must blame anyone for the loss of that baby, you can blame the Arishok. I wish I had known. I wouldn't have allowed you to fight him. None of us would have. I must...I must take my leave now, Aria, but I strongly suggest that you cease this wallowing and this despair. People want to see you. They want to know you. They want to share in your story. You've made history. Let them help you enjoy life. And go talk to Fenris. If not tonight, then first thing tomorrow," Anders kindly stated, planting a kiss on her forehead.

"Do you still need to go to your clinic?" Aria whispered when he pulled away.

"Well that depends. I tell you what; when you've talked to Fenris and you're ready to try again, come see me. I'll give you a remedy that will ensure a healthy baby, so long as you can manage keeping out of a fight for nine months or so," he softly replied. "Good night, Aria."

"Good night, Anders. And thank you," she whispered in response.

He squeezed her shoulders and she could see tears forming again in his eyes. Before she could do anything though, he bounded down the stairs and went to the cellar where he could more quickly and safely access his clinic. Aria stood in the study for a long time, staring out the window.

This was all so stupid. She was being an idiot. But she wouldn't go tonight. She'd go in the morning. Make a day of it, ask him to disappear with her somewhere. Maker, she missed him. She'd been spoiled in their travels, sleeping next to him every night. Making love whenever they pleased...at least, before she realized she was pregnant. It had been at least three months since the last time they'd made love.

Sighing, Aria poured herself another glass of wine and finished it, then went back to her chambers. She crawled into bed fully clothed. She watched the embers in the hearth, entranced. She hadn't realized she'd even fallen asleep until Bodahn gently shook her awake.

"Aria, a messenger has arrived. You are needed. Quickly, now. I've got your armour all prepared."

Aria scrambled out of bed and hastily donned the armour, then fetched her favourite twin daggers she'd brought home from Orlais. They were wicked little blades, with several enchantments. She hadn't gotten to use them yet, and oddly, she was excited to now have the chance.

"Varric sent a messenger. It would appear there is some trouble at the Hanged Man regarding...Fenris," Bodahn explained as they bounded down the stairs together.

Aria finished tugging on the second of her greaves and went out the door. Her horse, Belle, waited for her, already tacked up. She mounted and quickly rode to the well-known bar. Varric, Anders, and Aveline awaited her outside.

"What's going on?" Aria asked as she dismounted and tied off her horse.

"It would appear... Fenris's sister is in Kirkwall. He's on his way now to meet her here. I figured it for a trap and decided it would be most prudent to have a welcoming party present," Varric said as Aria came up the steps to join them.

"He's just inside. We—we didn't tell him we sent for you," Aveline added as Varric opened the door.

"Great," Aria groaned.

In the foyer of the tavern, the five of them crowded together. Fenris's eyes sent emerald daggers at Aria when their gazes met.

"I told you I didn't want her involved!" Fenris roared at Varric.

"A little bird said I should go to the Hanged Man tonight. Apparently that little bird was right," Aria snapped at the elf. "What are you doing? You know this is a trap!"

"What was I supposed to do? You've done nothing but shut me out! I'm not your...your little plaything that you can throw away as soon as times get rough-"

"How _dare _ you!" Aria spat back, stepping toward him.

Anders and Aveline restrained her while Varric corralled Fenris against the opposite wall. "This isn't getting us anywhere, Hawke," Aveline reproachfully stated.

"Where is she? Your sister?" Anders asked Fenris.

"Back table, in the alcove near the stairs. Her name is Varania," Fenris curtly answered, his eyes still leveled on Aria. She glared back at him.

"We'll cover you. If this is a trap..." Aveline started.

"It most certainly _is_ a trap," Fenris snarled, cutting her off. "But I...thank you for being here. I'm going to put an end to Danarius."

"Go. Talk to your sister," Varric said then.

They watched in silence as Fenris strode lithely across the tavern. The four of them followed and assumed tactical positions. Isabela was on guard at the bar, her fingers dancing anxiously on the hilt of one of her daggers. She nodded once at Aria and quirked a salacious grin. Aria winked back and returned to watching the scene before her.

The elf that sat at the table was stunning. She had fiery deep auburn hair and the same verdant eyes, and her clothes were finely crafted of soft suede and silk. She turned and offered Fenris a sad smile as he walked up. "It really is you," she softly said.

Fenris froze and looked at her. Aria couldn't see his eyes, but his posture stiffened as though he'd taken a blow. "Varania? I... I remember you," he said, his voice taking on notes of hurtful reminiscing. "We played in our master's courtyard while Mother worked. You called me..."

"Leto. That is your name," Varania answered for him as she stood. Her eyes took in the room and for a split second, they rested on Aria. Her posture was off; she seemed... Sad and... She looked back to Fenris.

"What's wrong?" Fenris asked then, his hand going instinctively to the hilt of his greatsword. He looked around the room. "Why are you so-"

And that's when Aria saw the hallway upstairs darken. She lunged and grabbed Fenris's arm. "We have to get out of here, now-"

"Ah, my little Fenris. Predictable as always," came a voice from the top of the stairs leading to the Hanged Man's rooms for rent.

Aria stepped in front of Fenris, both daggers drawn. The elf seemed to be in shock at the sight of his former master and Aria wasn't letting Danarius win. No. He couldn't have Fenris. Fenris was his own man as much as he was hers. She wasn't letting him go while there was still blood in her veins and air in her lungs.

"I'm...sorry it came to this, Leto," Varania said from behind them.

His terror shattered, Fenris rounded on his sister. "You led him here!"

"Now, now, Fenris. Don't blame your sister. She did what any good Imperial Citizen should," Danarius said, shuffling up to Varania's side. He had cold grey eyes, lank salt-and-pepper long hair, tied back, and the cloying stench of death clung to him like a second skin.

Aria flicked her daggers in her most vigorous kata and kept herself somewhat between the two men. Danarius's guards watched her like a rabid dog eyes a cut of meat.

"I never wanted these filthy markings, Danarius! I won't let you kill me to get them!" Fenris roared at the magister.

At this, Danarius bemusedly chuckled. "Oh-ho, Fenris. How little you know, my pet," the magister silkily stated, the familiarity of his fondness towards the elf turned Aria's stomach. He turned to face her, as though he'd heard her thoughts. When he spoke, his voice was oily and made her feel as though she needed to scour every inch of her body to get the filth of it off. "And this is your new mistress, then? Champion of Kirkwall. Impressive."

Aria took one deliberate, threatening step forward. "Fenris belongs only to himself!"

Danarius grinned greasily. "Do I detect a note of jealousy? It's not surprising. The lad is rather skilled, isn't he?"

Again Aria's stomach turned at the thought of what Danarius might have done to Fenris. It ignited the ravenous urge to kill that she'd honed to lethal precision over the past few years.

"Shut your mouth, Danarius!" Fenris snapped at him, stepping up beside Aria; his brands glowed and Aria could hear the sizzle bespeaking devastating power emanate from him.

Danarius huffed testily. "The word is 'master'," he icily commanded, his staff flitting up defensively.

"Here it comes," Varric groaned.

The magister disappeared in a cloud of smoke and the bar's non-combatant patrons fled to the walls. The guards lunged forward and all hell broke loose. Anders cast debilitating elemental spells to stall the onslaught while Fenris, Aveline, Varric, and Isabela launched headlong into the fray with annihilative force.

Aria whirled and danced, parrying blows and flipping over her foes to knife them in the backs. She kept her allies in her peripherals while she assaulted the guards. She pressed ever forward, seeking Danarius at the top of the stairs through a path of bodies. He grinned wickedly at her and spun his staff lazily within his protective enchanted bubble of energy.

She had just reached the steps when Danarius summoned a handful of rage demons and at least thrice that in shades. Vengeance renewed, Aria turned into a hellish tornado, her daggers ceaselessly slashing through the puppets. Just when they thought they'd killed all of the demons, hordes of undead flooded the tavern, and more shades appeared.

Aria spun and spied a familiar at her back. She pushed her own against them, realizing instantly that it was Fenris, and they fought together, back to back. They tore through the ranks and Danarius screamed. He launched terrifying spirit spells at them, three of them hitting Isabela mid-rush. Anders tended to her immediately while the rest of them closed in.

Danarius was stunned from the flank and partially entombed in a sudden explosion of thorny bush branches. Aria almost cheered; Merrill's being here made it a party. Aria sprinted forward up the steps as fast as she could, taking them two at a time. She launched herself in the air, flipped, and came down behind the immobilized magister. In one swift move, she buried one of her daggers to the hilt in his side while the other deftly rested at his throat, worrying the hairs of his stubble terribly.

Aria's chin rested intimately against his neck as the thorns retreated and Danarius slumped against her. She looked through her lashes at Fenris, murderous intent setting ochre depths of her irises ablaze. Fenris stalked up to them, his lyrium brands crackling ferociously.

"You should have just stayed away," Aria whispered, planting a kiss on the man's cheek before shoving him at Fenris's feet.

Fenris dropped his sword and savagely lifted Danarius by the throat. "You are no longer my master!" he bellowed as his other hand lifted and plunged through the magister's chest. Fenris squeezed viciously and twisted, a spray of blood covering his chest armour and face. He ripped his hand back out, clutching the magister's heart, then dropped the still-dying corpse to the floor. He spit on his face then spun to face the sister who had betrayed him.

Aria dashed up to him when she saw the look in his eyes. The beast was completely off its leash within him, and he was no longer the little wolf. He was full, unbeaten, unchallenged Alpha.

"I had no choice, Leto!" Varania sobbed, her hands raised in defense.

"Stop calling me that!" Fenris yelled, hurt lacing his undertone as he stopped but a pace or two from her.

"He was going to make me his apprentice. I would have been a magister!" she sobbed.

"You sold out your own brother to become a magister!" Fenris snarled back.

"Your sister's a mage? You bloody hypocrite!" Anders roared then from behind the elf, his features twisted in disgust. "You really are just jealous!"

"You have no idea what we went through. What I've had to do since Mother died. This was my only chance!" Varania pleaded.

"And now you'll have no chance at all," Fenris venomously stated, closing the distance further.

She stumbled away from him and cowered, her eyes meeting Aria's helplessly. "Please don't do this! Please tell him to stop!" Varania screamed.

"Wait!" Aria cried, moving to stand between them. "Don't kill her."

"Why not? She was ready to see me killed!" Fenris rounded on her. "What is she to me, other than just one more tool of the magisters?" He turned back to his sister as he spoke, his eyes filled with terrible loathing.

Aria tentatively stepped towards him, gesturing towards Varania. "Fenris... She's your sister. Your family."

Varric stepped forward then. "Elf...Fenris... Don't. It won't help. Trust me," he somberly stated, and something in his tone broke Aria's heart for him.

Fenris balled his hands into fists tensely at his sides and he squeezed his eyes closed as he bowed his head. A moment later, he looked up at Varania, malice and disgust darkening his emerald gaze. "Get out!" he spat at her.

Varania bolted for the door, but stopped cold and spun to face him as soon as she was out of striking distance. She drew herself up, also tall for an elf, and leveled her own bright green eyes on her brother. "You said you didn't ask for this," she snarled. "But that's not true. You wanted it. You competed for it. When you won, you used the boon to have Mother and me freed."

They all turned to Fenris, surprised. Aria felt as though she'd taken an icy blast to the chest. It was his darkest secret and now, everyone knew it. Much to Fenris's chagrin, that included Anders knowing. Fenris clutched his head in his hands then rounded back on Varania.

"Why are you telling me this?!" he torturedly asked.

"Freedom was no boon," she icily continued. "I look on you now, and I think you received the better end of the bargain."

She departed and Fenris hung his head. He slowly moved towards Aria.

"I thought discovering my past would bring a sense of belonging. But I was wrong." He lifted his head, his eyes full of hatred and sorrow. "Magic has tainted that, too. There is nothing for me to reclaim," he said, turning his face away from her, his shaggy hair shielding his eyes from her view. "I am alone."

Aria grabbed his arm and spun him to face her, her other hand going to his shoulder. She leaned forward so that her forehead rested against his. "I'm here, Fenris," she softly stated.

He cupped her face in his hands and the tender look that took his eyes shattered her heart. He dropped one hand to her hip and pulled her to him, his other hand curving around the back of her neck, fingers buried in her hair. They stood like that for quite some time, just staring into each other's eyes. The silent conversation lifted her spirit and restored her faith in him.

Fenris drew her back so that their foreheads touched again, their heads bowed. "You heard what Varania said," he quietly stated, more for the eavesdropper's benefits than for Aria's. "I wanted these. I fought for them." His voice quavered as he continued, pulling away to look down into Aria's eyes. "I feel unclean, like this magic is not only etched into my skin, but also stained my soul." He stepped away from her then and eyed the door. "Let's go. I need to get out of here."

He kept his arm about her waist as they stepped over the destroyed tavern's broken tables and chairs. Aria stopped at the door and tossed the coin purse at her belt to Corff at the bar.

"Remodeling is on me," she said, bowing her head to him.

"Pleasure doing business with you, Hawke," Corff laughed, catching the purse.

They walked together to Aria's horse. Fenris mounted first, then held his hand out for Aria to grab. She helped him haul her up behind him and they rode back up to Hightown. Fenris rode past Aria's estate and headed instead to his own. He brought the horse into the back lawn and removed her tack while Aria watched from a decrepit low bench.

Once Belle was taken care of, they went inside. Aria followed Fenris up to his bedroom and sat on the bed while he lit the lamps and torches. He even lit the candles on the bedside tables and desk. When he was done, he offered her his hand. She took it and stood, then followed him onto the balcony. They looked out over the city, hands resting on the railing, fingers entwined. Coming across the harbour from the southwest rolled storm clouds that occasionally flashed with lightning. Gentle rumbles of thunder greeted their ears, carried on the salty breeze.

"What did I do wrong?" he murmured some time later.

She turned to look at him, her brows knit together with anxiety. "What?"

"What did I do wrong?" he repeated, slightly more insistent. "You've been so cold. Detached. What did I do wrong?"

Aria cupped his face in her hands and his arms slipped around her waist. "You did nothing wrong, Fenris. I...didn't handle all that business well. I never want to hurt you."

He cocked his head to the side a little and his eyes were earnest. "Do you love me?"

"With all my heart and soul, Fenris," Aria whispered.

"I believe you," he softly rasped, lowering his lips to hers.

Aria loved how one searing, sweet kiss from him drove all the sorrow and weariness from her in its lava-like presence, relentless in its onslaught of her senses. She clung to him, barely aware of his hands lifting her buttocks. She lethargically ensnared his waist with her legs, her mind drowning in the power of his kiss.

He carried her back inside and collapsed above her on the bed, his fingers deftly plucked at the laces of her shoulder armour while he kissed her. His other hand slid from her hip to her knee and rested in the crook there. Aria undid his armour at the same time, every kiss taking her higher.

Fenris tore his mouth from hers to caress the sinewy column of her throat. Aria nearly gasped for breath, tossing his shoulder spikes across the room. She immediately started on his chest piece, her movements frenzied. She moaned as his teeth grazed her skin just under her jaw. His tongue followed, soft and swift.

He tossed her shoulder armour onto his and started in on her chest piece. He removed hers before she undid his, and his hands slid aggressively up her sides. Aria writhed under him, her lips hungrily taking his once more. He moaned against her mouth, undoing the laces on the hip armour she wore in the form of a pleated metal skirt over black mithril leggings.

Aria finally succeeded with his chest armour and peeled it off him with hot ardor. Fenris succeeded with her hip armour, guiding her buttocks off the bed with one hand, the other tugging the untied skirt out from under her. He smoothed his freed hand up her abdomen, his torso rearing above her so that he could look down into her eyes.

For the ten thousandth time in the length he'd known her, he was awestruck by the fierce vitality she possessed. Her alabaster skin had finally darkened, but only just. The touch of gold lent her skin a glow that hypnotized him. Her eyes were intensely bright though currently heavy lidded, and thick lashed. The flush that took her cheeks set his blood afire all over again. He slipped his hand under her shirt while her fingers smoothed up his thighs to his waistband. Fenris groaned when the side of her palm brushed his belly, just above his belt buckle, the touch sending a shockwave through him.

He looked down at her, the heat in his gaze searing her to the bone. Aria finished unlacing and unbuckling his breeches. She smoothed her hands under his shirt then and sat up, taking the shirt up and over his head as she moved. Fenris tugged hers off as well and drew her so that their bodies softly intertwined on their sides. He wrapped his arms around her and his fingers expertly unclasped her brassiere. She sat up and shrugged it off her shoulders, and Fenris shadowed her.

Aria moved to straddle him as he sat up and slid so that his back rested against the headboard. She guided his hands in unlacing her mithril leggings, his lips caressing her belly, just below her breasts. Aria buried her fingers in his hair as he feathered kisses up the valley between her well-endowed chest, then across her collarbone to her neck again. He pulled her body to his, the skin of their torsos sweetly abrading one another's.

Fenris tugged the top of the leggings and her underwear down and she lifted her hips to help. He looked down hungrily at her when she tugged his own down, and lithely finished removing them along with his boxers. Aria sat up again, smoothing her hand up his abdomen to his chest. He caught her hand at his heart and held it there.

Their gazes met; his of green fire, hers of molten amber. He savagely kissed her, pushing her back beneath him on the bed. Aria returned the fervor, a soft whimper escaping her lips when his hand slip up her inner thigh to the silken, wet heat at the apex of her thighs. Then, he was inside her, possessing her. She cried out at the intrusion, her body encasing him in a sweet, tight grip. His breath hissed from between his teeth as he buried his face against her collarbone.

"You're mine," he feverishly whispered against the skin on her neck, and he rolled so that she straddled his hips and was above him. His hands guided her hips in moving over him, a slow, deep rhythm that his consciousness could barely withstand.

She looked down at him, her arms wrapped around his neck as she moved. Aria tilted his chin up from where he rested his head above her breast. Their eyes met briefly before he dropped his head again, this time his mouth claiming one of the sensitive crests on her breast. Aria arched against him, her fingers buried in the hair at the nape of his neck. Fenris suckled her gently, his teeth lightly grazing her skin every few seconds.

When he released her breast, Fenris rolled them again so that he was on top. He pulled her hips toward him and plunged almost painfully deep within her, holding her knee against his side to give himself an anchor. Aria's world was rocked again when he sought her mouth with his once more. Their tongues waged an erotic war against one another while they countered each other's movements.

He drove harder and faster, and Aria couldn't fight the release that erupted. She cried his name and clung to him until his body shuddered violently and he pinned her beneath him. Aria's body relaxed as he collapsed over her, beautifully spent.

Fenris rested his head on her chest, their hands joined on either side of them. Aria closed her eyes and savored the feel of him. He rested inside her still, his lyrium brands pulsing with his heartbeat. A sudden, very loud crack of thunder snapped them from their trance. Aria giggled as Fenris disentangled himself from her and ran over to close the balcony doors. He blew out all the candles and extinguished the lamps and torches, then he and Aria slipped under the covers together.

Aria rested her head just over his heart and stared out the large glass doors that led to the balcony. Lightning lit the sky, heavy rain began to fall, and thunder sounded occasionally. They laid there together in the first comfortable silence since Denerim. Aria was just beginning to doze when a thought occurred to her.

"You don't have to run anymore," she whispered.

Fenris lowered his lips to her hair. He kissed the top of her head, then nuzzled her. "It is a strange and wonderful feeling."

"You're finally free," Aria sighed, rolling away from him and onto her back to contemplate the ceiling.

"But not alone."

Aria smiled at him and rolled to face him, her fingertips lazily caressing his chest in swirling, whimsical patterns. "Not alone."

"You're all I have left," he whispered, drawing his index finger down the bridge of her nose. She nipped at it when it reached her lips, drawing a soft chuckle from him.

"You're all I have left, too."

At this, Fenris rolled on top of her once more. "I'd very much like to try again."

"No complaints here," Aria giggled.


	50. Chapter FORTY-NINE

**Chapter 49**

Aria received a letter that Bodahn had brought to Fenris's mansion when she failed to return home for nearly a week. Throughout the past couple years together, both of them had accumulated items at one another's homes. Since their reunion after the painful vacation to the southern lands, Fenris and Aria were rarely seen in Kirkwall proper anymore. When they were seen, it was almost always together.

She read the letter while standing in the foyer, wearing only a robe of Fenris's. Hubert was worried about losing the mine completely when all of the workers failed to come home one night. That had apparently happened five days ago, at least. Aria sighed and handed the letter back to Bodahn. She rubbed at her temples and squeezed her eyes closed.

"What is it?" Fenris said then, lightly bounding down the stairs in only his customary leggings. His hair was sleep tousled, his voice more crushed diamond than velvet.

"Something terrible has happened at the mine, I think," Aria replied, turning to him. She motioned for Bodahn to give Fenris the letter.

"Why can't he send the Coterie?" Fenris rasped, handing the letter back to Bodahn once more. He looked at Aria, his eyes shifting for just a split second to her belly before returning to meet her gaze.

"If it's... Serious, I have to go," she said softly.

"Send someone else. I'll go. With Aveline, Anders, and Varric. Or Isabela. Or Merrill. Or all of us. We can handle it."

Aria sighed. Bodahn shifted uncomfortably. "Bodahn, you may return home now. We'll hash this out and get it taken care of."

He looked absolutely relieved and didn't need to be told twice. When he was gone, Fenris took Aria gently by the shoulders. "Stay to the background. No taking on anything by yourself," Fenris said softly, though sternly.

"Of course," Aria replied in the same tone.

"Well, let's rally the troops," Fenris grunted, turning to go upstairs.

Aria followed, and they quickly donned their armour and their implements. They jogged together down to Lowtown to fetch Varric from the Hanged Man. When they arrived, Norah and Corff both informed them that Varric had received an urgent summons and left last night. He had yet to return.

They went to Darktown and met with Anders, who was happy to oblige. But he had a favour to ask of Aria.

"I'm going to be trying something, and I thought you'd want to be part of it," he started once Aria had asked what the favour was. "We've both been wrong. What I did with Justice was unnatural. It should never have happened."

"Anders, you can't change what happened. Unless... Is there some way to undo it?" Aria asked, taking a seat at his table.

"I've spent the past three years researching the methods of Tevinter Magisters..."

Fenris scoffed at this and his hand shot up to cover his face as he groaned, "Why am I not surprised?"

Anders continued, unimpeded. "They're the only ones who have thought to reverse spirit possession, not just behead the victims," he said, then a smile washed over his face and he suddenly looked years younger. "I believe I have a formula for a potion that can separate Justice from me. Without killing either."

Aria chanced a look at Fenris, who had crossed his arms over his chest as he looked back expectantly at her, his vibrant green eyes flashing dangerously. He did not approve, but he knew she'd help Anders. She always helped Anders. Aria sighed. This was never going to completely stop, was it?

"Is it dangerous?" Aria wearily asked.

"There are always dangers with magic," Anders hedged, and Fenris scoffed again. "But I believe this will be worth the cost."

"So what are we talking here, demons and blood mages dangerous? Or small group of drunk highway men dangerous?" Aria queried with an uncharacteristic note of worry.

"Probably more the latter," Anders confidently stated.

"Well alright then, we'll see what we can do," Aria amicably replied.

Fenris punched the support beam upon which he had just been leaning. "Venhedis!" He stormed out of the clinic but stopped just outside the door and began pacing.

"I knew you'd stand behind me in this," Anders almost whispered. "Even if..."

When he'd failed to finish that sentence, Aria felt the cold fingers of dread closing around her spine. "Even if?" she prodded after another moment.

"Nothing," he said all too quickly. "I've gathered most of what I need," he also continued too quickly. "But there are some outlandish ingredients I was hoping you'd help me collect. A powder the Tevinters call _sela petrae_ and a small amount of drakestone."

"Is it just a potion?" Aria asked, turning in her seat as Fenris returned, his demeanor that of a wolf caged in a prison far too small to contain it comfortably. "Is there anything more to this...ritual?"

"No, no ritual. Just mix the ingredients up and... Boom. Justice and I are free," Anders replied, "And we can take our rightful place among free mages."

"What is drakestone?" Aria queried, his last statement sending the hairs up on the back of her neck. She didn't like being lied to, but she was deciding to play along—for now.

"The Tevinters used to mine it for their apothecaries. There should still be deposits in the Bone Pit, which is where we're already going. The trip can be doubly fruitful."

Aria looked at Fenris, who was glaring coldly at Anders. She turned back to the mage. "And where would we find _sela petrae_?"

"It's a crystal that forms from concentrated manure. And urine," he distastefully answered, his nose wrinkling for effect.

"Seriously?" she asked in disbelief, one eyebrow arching comically. "We can't just...buy it somewhere?"

"It's not used by mages here," Anders answered. "There's no reason for any merchant to stock it. I suggest we search the sewers when we return from the Bone Pit. There's an entrance hidden not far from here in Darktown."

Now that she'd let him push his pawns, Aria decided to check him. "What aren't you telling me?"

"Oh, many things I'm sure," he glibly replied with a wink. Aria heard Fenris rumble low in his chest, much like a creature of his namesake might. "Did I tell you of the dream I had where the Grand Cleric was completely naked except for her mitre? And there was this giant glowing cheesewheel..."

"Ok, enough! I'll bloody help you. Come on, we have to go get Aveline. The best entrance to the Bone Pit is in Hightown anyway. I really wish Kirkwall would invest more in horses. The people here are too slow," Aria conceded, then stood and stretched. "Let's go."

The three of them took the shortcut to Aria's estate and accessed Hightown via the sewers. Along the way they collected a deposit of the _sela petrae_. Anders seemed buoyant and effervescent as they strolled through the Keep's doors, despite the somber shift in decorum. Aria tried to find his change in demeanor pleasant, but something was off.

The mood in the Keep had changed drastically. There were templars everywhere, guarding choke points, offering solemn blessings of the Maker as they passed. Some of them glared at Aria, others smiled and nodded politely. All of them seemed to keep a watchful eye on Anders. Aria fought a shudder. They knew; they just hadn't been able to get him yet.

Aveline was talking to her guardsmen when they walked in, the whole lot of them crowded into her office. She motioned them all out when she saw Hawke, Fenris, and Anders in the door way. The companions waited while the guards filed out, each of them smiling or nodding at Aria's company before they went back to the barracks. Donnic stayed to greet each of them personally before he joined the rest of the guards. He cast one longing, sweet gaze back at Aveline and the Guard-Captain actually giggled.

"Things seem to be going...well," Aria chimed as Anders closed the office door.

"Indeed. I've been meaning to tell you...all of you... We have decided to get married. Next month. I'd like you all to be there, and pass on the invitation, if you please," Aveline said with uncharacteristic girlishness.

"Well, congratulations," Anders crooned. "I was beginning to wonder if it was just a rumour."

"Quiet, apostate, if you value your freedom," Aveline snarkily replied. Anders only chuckled in response, though his eyes bespoke fear.

"Yes, congratulations. But, I fear I have to ask for your assistance. Hubert has informed me of some trouble at the Bone Pit-" Aria started to say, but Aveline cut in.

"Ah yes, the miners' families have reported them missing. I was going to send some guards, after I reconnoitered the area first. Hawke, you've been shirking your duties, and I fear those miners paid the price."

"She has shirked nothing. Hubert is ultimately responsible for the mines-" Fenris interjected venomously, but Aveline cut him off too.

"And Hawke is the hired muscle set with the task of defending them. You honestly think Hubert is going to be able to wield anything more than his mouth?"

"Shut up. We didn't come here to argue," Aria snapped. "Get your gear, Captain. We're going hunting." Aria didn't wait for a response and turned on her heel. She immediately strode away and didn't look back until she had exited the doors of the Keep and stood on the first bank of steps below the templar guards.

"I still don't want you to go," Fenris rasped so that only Aria could hear.

"You heard her. This is my responsibility," Aria snapped back.

"We can handle this," Anders chimed in, for once siding with Fenris.

It was then that they saw Varric jogging towards them. Fenris breathed a sigh of relief. "See? Here comes reinforcements now."

"I have to go," Aria stated flatly.

"Hawke! Corff said you were looking for me?" Varric huffed as he met them.

"Yes, we've got to head to the Bone Pit. Apparently something killed the miners," Aria answered before Fenris or Anders could intervene.

"I'd love to Hawke, but I can't. When you guys get back, meet me at the Hanged Man. We have to talk. It's...urgent," Varric apologetically said.

"Ah, well then. That settles it. We'll come seek you out when we return," Aria quickly stated.

"Blondie, Elf," Varric said before he turned and bounded back down the steps.

Fenris and Anders both glared at her. Aveline stormed through the door then, sparing Aria any further rebuff from the two. They headed to the outskirts of Kirkwall and climbed for several hours up the steep, rocky path to the mine.

"So, Aveline, how long have you been planning for this wedding? And when did Donnic propose? How did he propose?" Aria finally said, unable to bear the uncomfortable silence directed almost exclusively at her.

"While you were gallivanting around Orlais is when he asked me and my best friend wasn't even here to share the news," Aveline coldly replied.

Aria sighed. "Why do I even bother?"

"We used to be friends once. Now, no one ever sees you except when you're with that damned elf!" Aveline groused.

"That damned elf is standing right here," Fenris snarled.

"Good! Then maybe you two can stop being so selfish already and help! These miners are most likely dead. There has been an upswing in crime and poverty in Lowtown, and the bloody templars are walking around like they've taken over. And they all but have! Hawke, you've got to do something. I can't. My bloody hands are tied!"

"Hasn't she given enough for this city?" Anders said, stepping up so that he walked between Aria and Aveline.

"She's the Champion!" Aveline bellowed.

"And she's still a person, with her own life, and her own desires. She's sworn no oaths. She holds no offices," Anders barked back.

"Just stop it already," Aria snapped, striding ahead of them all. "Just...stop."

"Aria—this city needs you," Aveline almost desperately stated. "Things are rapidly deteriorating without a Viscount. There will be civil uprisings soon. I've read troubling reports about Orlais and the push to re-annex Ferelden, and they're also eying the Free Marches."

"So what now? I'm supposed to fight all of Orlais for everyone?" Aria snarkily replied over her shoulder.

"That's not what I'm saying!" Aveline called back, jogging to keep up with the shorter rogue's swifter pace.

"That's sure what it sounds like. I'm sorry, Aveline. I'm sorry I failed to keep a mine safe because I needed some fucking time to myself for a change. I'm sorry I braved the Deep Roads and rose above my lowly station. I'm sorry I fought for Ferelden and ended up getting shipped here. I'm sorry I fail at bearing children..." Tears of rage, frustration, and sorrow streamed down Aria's cheeks then and she coughed on the sob that threatened to choke her.

"What?" Aveline gasped, grabbing Aria's shoulders to stop her. She spun the rogue to face her and for the first time in a very, very long time, Aveline studied her. Aria was as sinewy and thin as she'd ever been. Her cheeks had become more gaunt, her normally cajoling, bright amber eyes held nothing of that mirthful, spiteful light they'd had once. "Failing at bearing children?"

Fenris stepped between them and pulled Aria away from the warrior. He glared at Aveline, his eyes shooting cold, green daggers. He turned and they continued on up the path a ways before Aveline and Anders followed. Aveline shook her head and fought her own tears.

"What did she mean?" she asked Anders when Aria and Fenris disappeared over the next rise.

Anders shook his head. "She doesn't want people knowing."

"Well I already have an idea and it came from her mouth. Out with the rest," Aveline barked.

"When they were in Ferelden, Aria had a miscarriage," Anders softly replied.

"Why didn't she tell me!?" Aveline incredulously asked.

"Not many people know. Just her, Fenris, Varric, and myself. Well, and you, now," Anders grudgingly replied.

"That's why she's been... Oh Maker, I've really bolloxed this up big time," Aveline said, shaking her head and rubbing at her temple with her hand.

"Fenris has been trying to keep her...safe. And unfortunately for Kirkwall, that means not fighting," Anders continued. "It was not a pleasant experience and for all I know, they could be trying again. He's been trying to get her to stay in Kirkwall and let us handle these things. Aria doesn't listen. Especially when she's being shamed into it." The accusation was glaringly apparent and Aveline shook her head.

"Well now that I know, I will do my best to keep Aria out of such matters. Come on. We better catch up. Fenris will never forgive me if anything happens to her because of my...accusations," Aveline conceded, her expression horrified.

They reached the Bone Pit an hour later, and the scene before them was grisly to an extent Aria had never before seen. Bodies lay all around, some in pieces. All were scorched. The mining camp was in shambles. They were all fairly silent as they picked over the camp, looking for clues. They did satisfy Anders's need for the drakestone deposits, and they ventured down the well-used mine trail to the gully that led to an abandoned mine shaft.

And then, an enormous shadow flew over them and Aria's stomach fell. Perched on a tall butte to their right was the most massive dragon Aria had ever seen. Even bigger than Flemeth's rendition. Aria knew, to her absolute horror, it was a High Dragon. She barely rolled out of the way in time to avoid the scorching ball of fire the dragon spat at her.

"Aria! Get back!" Fenris screamed at her, the timbre of his voice one she had never heard. It was terror and rage in equal measure; his voice cracked with the ferocity of his emotions.

She glanced back at the escape route up the trail they'd come down, and saw that the dragon had set it ablaze. They were trapped. Aria whirled to check where the dragon was, and just in time. It launched another fireball at her, and this time, it grazed her shoulder as it crackled swiftly past. She rolled out of the way and fought the scream of agony that threatened to steal her breath. Her armour was thoroughly cooked on her entire left arm and the noxious scent of burned flesh filled her nostrils. She snagged a health potion and downed it, thankful for the cooling relief as it repaired her charred skin.

The dragon swooped down in front of them and Aveline and Fenris started attacking. Aria's heart leaped into her throat when it snatched Fenris by the leg and viciously shook him. Fenris landed several devastating strikes to the beast's muzzle for its trouble, and it threw him to the ground. Aria lunged in and slashed many poison-laced blows to the monstrous animal's left hind leg, but it kicked and sent her a good twenty feet into a boulder. She snagged another healing potion and a stamina vial and quickly downed them, her eyes tracking both Fenris and the dragon. Anders was frantically chanting, healing Fenris all the while launching ranged ice and electricity attacks. Aveline managed to hack an impressive wound into the dragon's left foreleg before it flapped its tremendous wings and knocked her to the ground.

The beast retreated to the cliff once more, and roared tremendously. The sheer power of its scream had all of them clutching their ears in excruciating pain. It was while they were down that Aria saw the dragonlings and juvenile dragons emerging from the abandoned shafts.

She launched into action, her head still ringing. Fenris and Aveline appeared beside her almost immediately, and they both drove her behind them. Frustrated, Aria did a back flip and started assaulting from the small herd's right flank. She heard Anders call out for help then, and turned to find him.

He was being swarmed by another gaggle of the creatures. Aria raced over to him and they annihilated the hatchlings together. But even as the last youth fell, the High Dragon was once more upon them, and it seemed to have marked Aria as its preferred prey. She ran and dodged the flames it spat at her, listening to Fenris's and Aveline's screams for her to get out of the way.

Aria smashed a chameleon potion and disappeared in the fog. The dragon stopped dead in its tracks and looked around, confused. Aria silently thanked Isabela for the set of the potions the pirate had gifted her. They had literally just saved her life. She tiptoed past the dragon while Aveline and Fenris flanked it. Anders still bombarded the creature with his ranged attacks, managing to stun the monster for a moment. But he was being flanked by several dragonlings that had emerged once more from the abandoned shafts.

It was now or never, Aria realized, having the upper hand. Fenris and Aveline assaulted the dragon still, their attacks further stunning the monster. Aria lunged, taking advantage of the fact that Aveline and Fenris had staggered the great beast. She caught one of the spikes on the dragon's cheek, ignoring the screams of warning coming from all three of her companions as the chameleon potion wore off and she became visible again. The dragon snapped its massive jaws at her and she planted a solid, hard kick to its snout.

It roared and tossed its great head, giving her the upward momentum she needed to swing up onto the back of its skull. She buried one of her daggers hard and deep into the creature's brain. The dragon screamed and plummeted to the ground, tossing Aria violently down the cliff edge where they'd cornered it. She hit the perilously steep incline hard, landing on her right side and rolling at devastating speed down the cliff face away from her companions.

It felt as though she rolled forever, the landscape flying by at all sorts of odd angles. Aria focused on tucking her limbs close to her body to minimize injury in this dangerous method of descent. She hit several rocks and took out a few saplings before finally coming to a jarring halt. She slammed against a large boulder; her left shoulder, ribs, and hip made horrid cracking noises with the impact.

The pain raged through her entire body, stealing away any and all rationale with its enormity. She struggled to breathe, struggled to move, struggled to think. High above, she heard the call of the carrion crows. She tried to move again, but the pain was so great that it rendered her instantly unconscious.

Aria didn't know how long she lay there, but when she came to, stars soared above her and her body was numb with cold. She tried to move, but pain ravaged her entire being. A wolf howled somewhere off to her left, far enough away to not be an immediate threat, but close enough that she knew she'd have to get moving. She gritted her teeth and disentangled herself from the brush and boulder. Aria was not admitting defeat this night. She didn't just put the screws to a High Dragon only to be eaten alive by wolves. Grimacing and biting back the scream of pain, she sat up and looked around.

"Aria!" she heard in the distance—farther away than the wolves. It sounded like Anders.

She tried to yell, but her throat was so parched that no sound came. Her hand flew instinctively to her belt and thankfully there was one little vial of health potion that had survived her tumultuous descent down the cliff side. Aria quickly downed it, then gingerly got to her feet. Her hip threatened to buckle and she stumbled against a large sapling for support.

"Over here!" she yelled, searching the ground for a weapon. Her favourite dagger was still lodged in the dragon's skull, no doubt. But she was certain that her other one should be somewhere close.

"Aria!" someone else called, barely fifty yards to her left.

Her heart sang. Fenris was here!

"Fenris!" she called out, limping over to another boulder where her peripherals caught the glint of metal in the pale starlight. She grinned widely, wincing as her lips cracked with the gesture, and snatched the dagger up with her less-injured right hand. She leaned against the boulder, her breath coming in hard gasps. All this movement was doing nothing to help her badly cracked ribs.

"Aria!" he called again, and she could hear his footfalls as he ran to close the distance.

"Over here," she gasped, fumbling for another health vial, but to no avail.

"Aria!" he yelled, racing up to her. "Oh, thank the Maker!" He cupped her face in his hands, checking her head for injury. "Are you hurt?" he asked, ascertaining her neck and shoulders with his free hand. He clutched his longsword in the other.

She nodded through gritted teeth, unable to speak anymore. He snagged a potion from his belt and tipped the little vial to her lips. She swallowed it, grateful for the momentary reprieve from the pain.

"Aria!" Aveline called from several yards off to their right.

"Over here!" Fenris called back, dropping his sword and feeling along Aria's ribcage. "Where are you injured?"

"Everywhere," Aria managed. "My left hip, ribs, and shoulder are broken."

He growled low in his throat. "That was a damn fool thing you did. You could have been killed! What the hell were you thinking?"

"Oh, Fenris. Not now," Aria groaned weakly, leaning against the boulder again.

"Yes, now," he snapped back, touching her shoulder again and feeling for breaks. "Please... Just..." His tone was one of fear and pleading.

"The dragon is dead. I'm alive. Mission accomplished," she said, coughing and swatting his hands away with her good hand. "And I'm pretty sure, if I'm me plus one right now, it's too small to have come to any harm."

"Why must you always be so reckless and stubborn?" he ground out, holding her by the shoulders none too gently.

She winced and moaned with the sudden pain he inflicted upon her with his actions.

"Hold still," he growled, grabbing her left forearm and bending it at the elbow. "This is really going to hurt, but afterward you'll be fine."

Before Aria could respond, he yanked on her shoulder, then popped it back into place. She cried out and slumped forward against him. He held her to him for a moment, then gently pushed her back so that he could look at her. Aria was still fighting to breathe and the sudden jarring of her shoulder did nothing but exacerbate this matter.

"The use of my arm means nothing if I can't breathe," she airily wheezed, clutching her left side and collapsing against him.

"Damn it," he cursed, easing her to the ground. "How bad is it?"

"Have you another health vial?" she managed.

"Yes," he softly replied, immediately tipping the blessed red liquid to her lips.

"Thank you," she gasped, resting her head against his chest.

"Don't frighten me like that again," he softly admonished, his voice velvet over crushed diamonds. It was harsh but tender all in the same instant.

Aria chuckled, then coughed, a sickening, fracking, wet sound deep within her chest. "Assuming I survive this?"

"You're not permitted to perish here," he worriedly stated, drawing her closer to him for warmth. He lit up his lyrium brands and the heat surged through her.

"There you are!" Aveline cried in relief, having spotted the light emanated by Fenris. "Hawke, you had better be all right or I'll end you myself!" the warrioress shouted as she came upon them. Her green eyes flashed with fear and fury and she trembled with the depth of it.

"Where's Anders?" Fenris hastily asked her, alerting her to the severity of Aria's condition.

"Right here," the mage said, coming up behind them, out of breath from his frantic run to get to them. "Is she in one piece?"

"For now," Aveline tenderly snarled.

"I can't—breathe—" Aria whispered.

"Her ribs are broken and I fear damage has been done to her lungs. Potions only stave it off for a few minutes," Fenris answered for her.

"Lay her down," Anders ordered gently. "We must be quick. There is a pack of wolves fast upon us." He helped Fenris lay her down and knelt beside her. "Which side?" he asked her, undoing the lacing on her armour and freeing her from the confining garment.

She drew a ragged breath, thankful for the reprieve. "Left side is the worst," she wheezed.

Anders gently placed his hands on the left side of her rib cage and his body lit up as if a bright white light lived within him. Aria closed her eyes and felt the mage's presence within her, mending the shattered ribs and moving to alleviate the pressure on her lungs. Then, he tended to her shoulder. Next, his presence floated through her blood to her hip and he repaired that. She gasped when the healing sensation flowed through her lower belly. He sighed in relief.

When he was finished, he fell back and collapsed. Anders fumbled for a lyrium vial in his cloak and quickly drained it. He sat back up, heavily drained by the exertions needed to heal her. His eyes sought hers, dark and full of worry. It scared him, the amount of damage she'd sustained. Terrified him even. If he hadn't been here when he was, she would not have made it through the next 45, maybe 60 minutes. And she was not a plus one, much to his odd relief. He fought the pang of jealousy that ripped through him.

"Don't ever be that reckless again," he said to her, his chest heaving as the lyrium restored his mana. "You would not have made it another hour."

Aria groaned. "I had the perfect opportunity and I took it. You were being attacked by the dragonlings, Fenris and Aveline were all but spent, and the dragon was stunned," she said. "How was I to know it would toss me down the cliff?"

"You have a knack for taking it too close to the edge, Aria. One of these days, that cliff won't be so forgiving and you won't have the strength," Anders softly said, his eyes pleading.

Fenris's head snapped to the left then and he snatched up his sword. Aveline mimicked him, readying her shield and her own sword. Anders hopped up to his feet and twirled his staff menacingly.

"The wolves are close. We need to be going," Fenris admonished. "This way. It's the easiest climb up to the path."

They followed him and thankfully, the wolves maintained their distance. They trudged down the path for about an hour before they were exhausted. The fight and the search for Aria had left them thoroughly drained. Anders set about to creating a massive fire. Fenris and Aveline quickly made a makeshift camp. Aria managed to spear a large rabbit with her dagger and found a blackberry bush near the camp site.

The companions devoured the meager meal once it was cooked and then set about to getting as comfortable as they could. Anders sat propped against a tree, his hood drawn over his eyes. Within a few moments, he was snoring softly. Aria felt a pang of guilt at how badly it had cost him to heal her.

Aveline sat against another tree, opposite from Anders, and her head was bowed. She too snored quietly. Aria lay on her side on a bed of pine needles, staring at the high flames of the roaring fire. It was big enough and bright enough to keep the wolves at bay, and they were close enough to Kirkwall that guard patrols would be passing through the area.

Aria jumped slightly when Fenris appeared before her, having conducted one last sweep of the area for any dangers. Satisfied that they were safe, he settled behind her, drawing her body to rest against his. He nuzzled her cheek.

"You promised," he raspily whispered against her ear.

"It was the only way," she softly replied, smoothing her hand down his forearm until their fingers met and entangled.

Fenris sighed resignedly. "You're never going to stop fighting, are you?"

Aria gingerly turned in his embrace to face him. She touched her forehead to his. "Until another Champion takes up the mantle-"

He kissed her, gently rolling so that his body covered hers. He pulled away after a moment and tucked an errant strand of her starstruck hair behind her ear. "We could go away. For good this time. We don't have to stay here."

Aria reached up and touched his cheek, following the strongly defined jawline. "Something would always drag me, or us back."

"Then we say no."

"With the things we get ourselves into, you honestly feel you could say no?"

He kissed her again, this time moving down her neck as much as her armour would allow. "If it meant keeping you...and our potential family safe? Absolutely."

Aria laughed airily at this, her fingers ran through the hair at the nape of his neck. "Is that what you want?"

"Only if it's what you want," Fenris whispered tenderly, kissing her sweetly on the lips for a brief moment.

"It is... Eventually. And only with you," she breathlessly replied.

"Then...please... Honour your promise. You don't have to do all the heavy lifting," he pleaded.

She sighed. "I will deign to exist with less effort."

Fenris chuckled throatily, her barb not lost on him. Once, he'd told Aveline he'd deign to exist with less offense when questioned about the state of his mansion, and informed how the nobles were complaining. He rolled again, so that Aria lay partially above him. He hooked his hand at the crook of her knee and drew her thigh to rest across his hips. The stretch felt good on her severely damaged muscles.

"Sleep, my love," he whispered, drawing her head to rest on his chest.

Aria smiled sleepily. "I love you."

"I love you," Fenris softly replied.

Several moments later, he listened as her breathing deepened and her body molded to his as she relaxed. Soon, she too emitted soft snores. He looked up at the stars above as he held her to him, uttering a silent prayer that the Maker would smile upon them, and give them a quieter, safer life.

His gaze shifted to the top of her silvery, sleeping head and he watched her lashes flutter while she dreamed. He smoothed her hair and allowed his thoughts to wander. He wanted to hold their children in his arms, watch her bloom with the evidence of his love for her. He wanted to exist with her, with their family, in a safe, quiet place away from the dangers of Thedas and its abhorrent magic.

He wanted to grow old with her, to watch her age with him. He wanted to die in her arms when at last the inevitable sought him out for the final time. He looked down at his arm, where the red ribbon she'd once worn in her hair was tied around his wrist. It was dirty and frayed, but still beautiful. And it was, to him, his promise. He'd always be hers. No one in this world would ever mean more to him than her.

Aria woke just as the first fingers of dawn licked at the deep purple horizon of retreating night. The fire was still burning high. Anders was still asleep, as was Aveline. She shifted slightly to look down at Fenris. He too was still sleeping soundly. Aria slowly disentangled herself from him and set out into the surrounding woods to raid the blackberry bush again.

Wolf tracks surrounded the camp, but none ever ventured closer than a hundred yards. The fire must have kept them away, she realized with dread. They could have been killed if the animals had been more brazen. But then, Aria also noted several sets of bare foot prints belonging to what could have only been elves. The Dalish must have been out last night too. She was thankful for their added protection and set a mental note to send something nice to Marethari when they returned to Kirkwall.

Aria returned to camp half an hour later and found everyone was still asleep. She gently shook Aveline awake, offering her a large handful of the blackberries she'd picked. The Guard-Captain gratefully took them and wolfed them down. Next she woke Anders, offering him the same. Fenris woke on his own and took a handful of the berries from her as well. When she did not eat any herself, Fenris offered her some of his.

"Oh, I'm ok. I ate my fill while I was picking them," Aria laughed.

Fenris mutely nodded and devoured the rest of the berries. They broke camp shortly thereafter and swiftly made the couple hour journey back to Kirkwall. Varric, Isabela, and Merrill waited for them at the gate, and interrogated them before they'd even finished crossing the threshold.

Aria and Fenris followed Isabela and Varric back to the Hanged Man, while Anders, Aveline, and Merrill returned to their respective homes. When they reached the tavern, Isabela went straight to her room for more sleep. Aria and Fenris followed Varric into his room. He shut the door.

"You might want to be sitting down when I tell you this," Varric said.

Aria groaned.


	51. Chapter FIFTY

_**A/N: **I profusely apologize for the grievous amount of time it took for me to update. I recently moved halfway across the country and accepted a new position with a new company. I've been a busy, busy lady and now that things have settled down a touch, here you go. It's a fluffy chapter, but don't worry. It's going to pick up again soon! Enjoy! :)_

_p.s.-there have been updates/changes made in the previous ten chapters that I've already uploaded here. ;)_

**Chapter 50**

It turned out that Varric's deceitful brother was back in town, or at least that was the rumour. His new estate was actually near Fenris's, which made Aria both uneasy and very angry. Fenris seemed to feel the same, if the deepening of his broody demeanor was anything by which to judge. Aria knew him well. He glared coldly at the hearth as Varric finished telling Aria of his recent adventures in acquiring this knowledge. The tale had taken the span of a few hours in the telling as Varric's ire and knack for storytelling put him in rare form, and Aria was exhausted still, the damage she'd sustained had been quite substantial. She grew sorer by the minute.

Aria sighed. "So, you're saying you want to pay him a visit. Tonight."

Varric nodded. "Hawke, I just want to confront him. To...understand. The horror stories I've been told about what's been going on in that estate... Something is wrong. Even for that kin-betraying bastard."

"After what he did? There is no understanding. He deserves death. And he shall have it," Fenris snarled then.

"I'm inclined to agree," Varric deadpanned.

"Isn't that..slightly hypocritical?" Fenris asked darkly.

"Hey, your sister didn't leave you in the Deep Roads, with thousands of darkspawn. She was a victim, same as you," Varric defended.

Fenris "hmphed" but said nothing more, as the sound of a soft snore drew his attention abruptly. He turned to look at Aria, who had slumped down in her chair and her eyes were closed. His expression softened and he stood. He hauled her up into his arms and turned for the door.

Varric chuckled. "Ah, let her stay. She can crash here until we go see about Bartrand."

Fenris nodded and gently deposited her sleeping form on Varric's bed. He covered her with one of the quilts and returned to his seat at Varric's table.

"So, how'd it go at the Bone Pit?" Varric asked once Fenris had settled again.

Fenris growled. "She almost got herself killed. Again. And we..." He trailed off as he looked over at where she slept.

Varric chuckled. "She always has near misses. You've got to get over that."

Fenris rounded on Varric. "No. Not this time. It was worse than the fight with the Arishok," he venomously whispered, his limbs trembling.

Varric's eyes went wide. "What?"

Fenris recognized the storyteller gears beginning to whir behind Varric's eyes. "That damn...fool of a woman..."

Varric chuckled. "Aria is no fool."

"She jumped onto its head. Buried her dagger deep into its skull. Was thrown and tumbled down a heavily wooded, rocky slope for nearly 200 yards. We didn't see where she landed. We didn't even know she'd fallen until we managed to lift the dragon's head and she wasn't there."

"What happened?" Varric asked then, leaning forward in his chair.

Fenris stood abruptly and began pacing. "I started looking for her. We didn't know how far she'd fallen or even in which direction. It all happened so quickly. When I found her, many hours later, she was not far from death. Healing potions weren't working. Anders was not long behind me, thankfully. But what it took for him to heal her..."

Varric waited a moment before speaking, the elf still pacing before him, his eyes darting every few seconds towards Aria's sleeping form. "Anders was weakened?"

"Considerably," Fenris growled. "She might...be with child. To lose another..."

"Are you both daft?" Varric whispered intensely. "You're already trying again? Things are _bad_ here!"

"There's never really going to be a right time," Fenris resignedly replied, his voice low and soft. "And to be honest, Varric... She needs this. Her family is gone. Creating one could be exactly what she needs."

Varric sighed. "I should have come with you."

"It wouldn't have made any difference," Fenris responded. He wearily sat back down and took the shot Varric proffered. "Thank you."

"What will you do when she is with child? This city has become stupidly dependent upon her. And you," Varric glibly stated, pouring them both another round of scotch.

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it," Fenris hedged, downing the drink with a nod of gratitude. "Perhaps then I can convince her to leave Kirkwall. Maybe jailbreak Bethany and go back to her homeland. The King there is much more appreciative of mages than I would like, but..."

Varric laughed heartily at this. "Elf, I never thought I'd ever see the day when _you_ helped a mage escape a Circle."

Fenris's mouth turned up wryly on one corner, his trademark sneer in place. "The things one does for... For..." He faltered. He'd told Aria he loved her. Many times. But never really admitted it to anyone else, save himself.

"You love her."

Fenris poured himself another shot and downed it, then stared up at the ceiling for a moment, the burn of the liquor igniting his belly. He slapped his hand on the table and his gaze whipped back to Varric. "Yes, I love her. Maker damn me."

Varric chuckled. "It's not a crime to love."

"She definitely puts the idea to the test," Fenris snarled.

"Hawke I understand as the family type. But you?"

Fenris took the next shot Varric poured him and quickly knocked it back. He quirked one brow as he regarded the dwarf with a look of mild amusement and consternation. "Why? You think I'm not father material?"

Varric guffawed at this and poured a tall glass of ale from the flagon on the table. He offered the glass to Fenris, then poured one for himself. "Honestly, the fact that you and Hawke seek to procreate... Well, let's just say your kids will scare the shit out of me," Varric good-naturedly replied. "And pretty much anyone."

Fenris chuckled at this and sipped from his glass. "They won't know this life."

"Here here," Varric proffered the rim of his glass, and they toasted.

"Mmm," Aria's voice sounded from the bed. She struggled to a sitting position and sleepily looked from one man to the other. "What are we toasting?"

Varric winked at Fenris and drained his glass. He swiped at his lip with his forearm before answering. "To your continued good health, madame!"

Aria giggled sleepily at this, and she winced. Her left side was very tender indeed. She motioned for Fenris to stay seated when he abruptly sat forward. "I'm fine."

"Do we have to do this tonight?" Fenris asked the dwarf.

"Yes. However, Hawke... You should sit this one out," Varric stated, assessing her condition with his eyes. "I can get Blondie and Red."

"I wouldn't miss the chance to tan Bartrand's hide for a million sovereigns!" Aria replied. "No. I'm not sitting this one out."

Fenris sighed heavily and took a long drink from his glass. When his gaze met Aria's again, he was shocked to see her quietly staring him down. Her expression was a mixture of emotions, anger, frustration, indecision, fear. "Your choice," he softly said after a moment of silent contemplation.

Aria eased herself forward so that she sat on the edge of the bed. "Do you really wish me to...sit this one out?" she asked as she gingerly got to her feet.

They locked gazes again and both fought the same battle behind their eyes. The nature of their relationship had always been equality. Neither sought control over the other. Aria had broken Fenris's chains in more than one way, and set him free. Fenris gave her the solace she needed, the voice of reason to ignore should she choose, and the strength to endure their many, many plights.

Fenris abruptly stood, the stool clattering across the floor in his wake. He strode up to Aria and cupped her face in his hands, his eyes holding a feverish light, searching the depths of hers for an answer with which they both could live.

"I'm not your master," he whispered.

"No, but I am willingly beholden to you, nonetheless," Aria replied in the same hushed tone.

"It is your choice," Fenris replied, his hands sliding down her shoulders, down her forearms to take her hands. He brought them to rest on his chest.

Aria sighed and turned to look at Varric. "Call on Anders and Aveline to join you tonight. I shall retire to my estate."

Varric bowed, a slight smile quirking the side of his mouth. "Right away madame," he chuckled. He went downstairs to employ one of Corff's bus boys as a messenger.

Fenris and Aria walked down the steps in his wake, Fenris's arm snugly wrapped around Aria's waist. The few remaining patrons paid them little mind as they stepped out into the late evening air. The sun had set nearly two hours ago, but the stones still clung to the heat despite the coolness of the breeze. The guards in the square nodded in greeting as they passed, making their way for the Hightown steps.

They were silent, comfortably so, as they made their journey to Aria's door. The moon wasn't yet visible, but the sky was clear. The air had a chill to it uncharacteristic of Kirkwall nights, and bore the salty scent of the sea. Hightown always stayed a few degrees cooler than the lower parts of the city, and tonight this fact was even more apparent. It wasn't until they were standing in her estate foyer that they broke the silence.

"Thank you," Fenris whispered as he took the heavy cloak she wore around her shoulders. He hung it on one of the pegs.

"You needn't," Aria whispered, sitting on the bench by the coat pegs and starting to work on the laces of her boots.

He sat next to her, his fingers plucking at the laces of her shoulder armour. "Yes, I need to."

Aria sighed and leaned against the back of the bench, using the toe of her left foot to drag the heel of the boot off her right. "If I'm going to make this work, this whole... Family thing. I'm going to need to start now."

Fenris removed her shoulder armour and tossed it onto the bench beside them. He watched her kick off her other boot. "Yes. It just... It has to be as much your decision as it is mine."

Aria stood and snatched up her boots and her armour, motioning for him to follow her. They went up the stairs to her room. She finished removing the rest of her battle dress and laid it out for Sandal to clean in the morning. Aria then went to her closet and pulled out a nightdress. She made to turn back towards Fenris, but his hands on her bare waist and his lips on her neck stopped her.

"Tell me," he murmured against the sinew of her neck, his fingers tugging at the clasps that fastened her bra. "Is this your choice?"

She turned in his embrace, the brassiere falling to the floor. "Yes. This is my choice."

Fenris claimed her mouth with his, mindful of his spiked armour as he pulled her body against him. His fingers worked at her hair, letting it fall in platinum waves down her back. He gently ended the kiss to look down into her eyes. His hand flew to her cheek, where he caught a tear just as it fell from her eye.

"Why are you crying?" he huskily asked.

"I... I don't know," Aria whispered, a nervous laugh escaping in the wake of the words.

"You don't?" Fenris rasped softly, his knuckles grazing her cheek.

"I just... I feel so many things all at once and I can hardly sort them anymore," she quietly replied, her voice cracking. Anger flooded her features as she sought to regain control of her uncharacteristically errant emotions.

Fenris took the nightdress from her grasp and helped her don it, his hands taking the liberty of caressing her bare skin before it was covered. He lifted her and gently deposited her on her bed, his body hovering over hers. He sighed and kissed her, then looked down into her eyes once more.

"Do you think you're..." he asked, his hand sliding possessively over her lower belly.

"I could be," Aria languidly answered, her hand covering his.

"I'll be back before first light," Fenris said then, moving to stand by the side of the bed.

Aria gingerly rolled onto her left side to face him, her head propped up on her elbow. "You had better be."

He knelt on the bed and leaned forward to kiss her lightly on the lips, then whirled and strode for the door. He turned back and offered her the smile no one but she had ever seen. "Don't wait up. I'll be back before dawn."

Aria watched him close the door, then laid back and contemplated the ceiling as she listened to his footsteps fade down the stairs. When the front door closed, she closed her eyes. Everything in her screamed at her, demanding her to act. _Get your ass out of this bed, get that armour on, and go fight with them._

She rolled onto her side, and winced. She didn't heal as quickly as she used to, even with Anders' help. Aria balefully regarded her armour and sighed. This was the hardest thing she had ever done. Let someone else fight her battle. Let someone else be in the thick of it. What if something happened? What if someone got hurt? Or killed?

Aria grunted as she sat up, and was just about to stand when Orana rapped on the door.

"Aria?" her soft, sweet voice sounded as she silently pushed the door open.

"Come in, Orana," Aria resignedly greeted her.

"Are you well? Fenris said to come check on you," Orana stated, striding in and picking up the armour. "Sandal slept all day and is working on his runes. He said he'd be happy to clean this for you now."

Aria sighed. "Yes, that's fine." _My choice indeed. Well played, my love._

"Aria?" Orana asked as she turned in the doorway.

"Hmm?"

"I hope to find someone to love me as much as he does you."

The tears caught her off guard and Aria quickly turned away. _Maker, what had gotten into her tonight?_ "Thank you, Orana."

"Would you like me to have a bath readied for you?"

"I would like that, yes," Aria softly replied. She looked up before Orana disappeared. "Orana?"

"Yes, Aria?"

"Thank you. And I hope you do find someone someday. Everyone needs someone."

"Thank you, mist—Aria. I'll get the water. Rest now," Orana sweetly replied, her own eyes misting. She disappeared behind the closing of the door and Aria couldn't hear her whisper quiet footsteps as she went downstairs.

Aria stood and walked over to the large picture windows that overlooked the gardens in the rear of her estate. She threw them open and looked outside. The moon was a thin crescent just disappearing behind the mountains. She turned towards Fenris's estate and listened intently. The night was quiet, save for the mournful cries of the gulls in the harbour, and the strange song of the loons in the bay. She could hear the distant breaking of the waves on the Wounded Coast, and out to sea, a bullhorn sang it's low, dulcet song, a late arriving shipment from the Coastlands.

It felt wrong to be here, in her night clothes, watching the moon go by while her comrades were undoubtedly engaged in a battle, no more than half a mile away. Who knew what would befall them? Aria started to pace, ignoring the protestation of her hip and her still-healing muscles.

"Your bath is nearly ready. Come away from there, it's too cold tonight," Orana kindly said from the open door of Aria's room. Three large caldrons sat among the coals in the hearth, their bottoms already glowing. Aria complied, closing and latching the windows before retreating to her desk.

"I feel so useless," Aria spat, kicking haplessly at a chip in her floor. She winced as the pain lanced through her toe.

Orana chuckled softly. "Idleness ill suits you."

"Indeed. I should be out there. With them. With him. What if some ill thing befalls him?"

"Aria you worry too much. They'll be fine," Orana gently chided. "You've trained them well. And Fenris is truly formidable. It will take quite a monster to bring that fellow down."

Aria wryly laughed at this. "Yes, yes it would. Not even a High Dragon could conquer him."

"A High Dragon?" Orana squeaked. "Maker!"

"It very nearly felled me, however," Aria relayed, absently rubbing her previously broken hip.

"No wonder he was so cross," Orana replied, walking back to the hearth and checking the temperature on the water. It was just beginning to bubble. She smiled and grabbed the heat pads hanging next to the fireplace, then proceeded to dump the steaming liquid into Aria's generously sized tub. When Aria moved to help her, the elf swatted her away.

"What do you mean by he was cross?" Aria asked once Orana had finished filling the tub.

The elf swiped at her brow and wiped her hand on her apron. "He wanted you taken care of well this evening and was more cross than usual."

Aria shook her head. "I'm not made of glass."

"He's very worried for you. Much more than usual," Orana hedged.

"I may be with child, and since... Since... Well, he's going to continue being more protective," Aria groused. "Thank you, Orana. I'll call if I require anything else."

"I'll be just downstairs," Orana sweetly replied, then took her leave.

Aria opened the windows again and slipped into the bath once she'd disrobed. She listened intently to the still, silent night air and watched the moon. She washed her hair finally, and let her cream rinse soak into the long strands while she continued her vigil. The night was quiet, save for the creatures calling to each other. The occasional trollop's laugh filtered through from the Blooming Rose and Aria absently wondered if Gamlen was there tonight.

Aria shivered as she realized her water was cold, and she quickly finished bathing. She donned her robe and went downstairs. Her belly rumbled in its need for sustenance, so she silently prowled the kitchen. She snatched up some of Orana's infamous banana chips, a still-warm chocolate chip muffin, and a small hunk of cheddar cheese. Then she poured herself a small chalice of her favourite wine and proceeded to her study.

There were numerous new books on the shelves, courtesy of Bodahn, and Aria snatched up the one with the most interesting title. "From the Darkness" it read, and she cracked it open to the first chapter. She was about twenty pages in when she realized it was an account of her very own Deep Roads expedition. She checked the cover and saw that it had been written by Varric. Oddly enough, it hadn't borne Varric's trademark novel style. It felt... Sadder, darker, and angrier than the glib dwarf's normal works.

She was just about to start reading again when she heard the front door open. Bodahn's voice greeted Fenris as he returned from the night's adventure. Her fingers brushed the plate, seeking a banana chip, but came back empty. Slightly miffed, Aria regarded the plate and her eyes widened when she realized she'd already eaten everything on it. She sighed, snatching it up as she stood.

"You're still awake?" Fenris teasingly asked as Bodahn took his chest armour from him.

"I was reading and lost track of time," Aria replied, depositing the plate on the small writing desk near the hearth. She walked over to Fenris and assessed him. Little to no damage marred what armour he hadn't yet taken off, and he bore no new wounds. Anders was a meticulous healer. "I trust no one came to harm?"

"Just Bartrand," Fenris darkly stated, cupping Aria's chin in one hand.

"Do tell," Aria said then, her eyes searching his.

"I'll let Varric do the telling when we meet him for Wicked Grace tomorrow night. For now..." he looked over at Bodahn, who was just leaving the room with the rest of Fenris's armour, "I just want to be upstairs in bed with you."

Aria giggled as he swept her into his arms and made for the stairs. "Oho, no! You're going to tell me what happened before you get any of this!"

Fenris buried his face against her neck as he carried her and breathed deeply. "The short version then."

"Haha! What's gotten into you?" Aria protested, squirming just enough to force him into holding her tighter.

"I'm fresh from victory and I want to lose myself in you," he rasped, nipping her shoulder as he set her down just outside her room.

Aria swatted him on the chest. "A battle in which I could have easily been involved with no severe consequences!" She made the remark only half in jest. She was legitimately angry. "You were having all sorts of fun, doing who knows what, and I was stuck here bathing and reading."

Fenris laughed at this and pushed her bedroom door open, then pulled her inside. He closed and locked the door before he engulfed her in his embrace again. Aria wrapped her arms around his neck and they looked deeply into each others' eyes.

"Bartrand fell prey to the magic of that idol he'd taken from the Deep Roads. The one you found made of the strange lyrium. It...addled his mind. He tortured his servants and somehow summoned all manner of shades and evil spirits from the Fade to protect him. Anders tried to heal him, but it was beyond anything the mage has ever seen. Aveline... Kindly put an end to him," Fenris said at last, smoothing the loose hair around her face.

"How did Varric take it?" Aria softly asked, sighing as Fenris slid her robe off her shoulders.

"I think Wicked Grace may be quite the affair tomorrow night, if he even bothers sobering up after tonight," was his husky reply. His lips sought her shoulder and he pulled her against him.

"You're going to be the death of me," Aria whispered, her fingers seeking anchor in the hair at the back of his head.

"Said the pot to the kettle," Fenris growled.


	52. Chapter FIFTY ONE

**Chapter FIFTY-ONE**

"I don't know how you've done it, but you've managed to tame Hawke. Congratulations," Varric snidely stated as he ushered Fenris and Aria into his room at the Hanged Man.

Isabela, Merrill, Anders, and Gamlen were already seated at the table, playing a hand of Wicked Grace. From the looks of it, Isabela was winning. Typical of the dusky sea captain. Gamlen was doing well in second. Merrill... Merrill was just there to drink. And Anders seemed to light up when Aria entered the room. Aria glared at Varric and Fenris simply chuckled.

"Tame is not a word in her vocabulary," the elf warrior replied as they took their own seats at the table.

"Hawke, you didn't miss much last night," Varric addressed the rogue as he shuffled a second deck of cards.

"That's not what I heard," Aria groused, offering Anders a smile when she looked over and met gazes with him.

"I'm glad you didn't come," the healer piped up. "It would have been a far worse end for Bartrand if you had."

Aria turned to Varric then. "I'm owed a story, kind sir."

Varric chuckled, though the mirth of his voice didn't reach the light in his eyes. "Are you sure about that, Birdie?"

"Absolutely."

"Well then, get comfortable, madame," Varric said, pouring her a mug of mulled cider. "Here we go."

Aria sipped from the mug and smiled as the tart, sweet, earthen notes danced on her tongue.

"We all met up at Fenris's mansion and proceeded from there. Aveline was late, most likely from a tryst with Ser Donnic. Before we could even arrive at the mansion, a band of stalwart, though laughably unskilled guardsmen imposters assailed us. We made quick work of them, ten of the fifteen kills belonging to me, and found ourselves looking up at the mansion my contacts said belonged to Bartrand.

"The windows were dark and covered in a thick layer of strangely damp dust. The doorway was heavily laced with old and new cobwebs, The elf made a remark, then. Atypical of his normal broody aura. He said 'Cobwebs don't keep the tax collectors away. I've tried.' 'Well you're thinking it's a trap!' I chuckled, 'Great, it's been ages since my brother tried to kill me.' We all shared a nervous laugh, wondering if this was even the right place. I went inside to check it out while the others stayed behind to look out for more guard wannabes.

"When I entered, a whole host of Bartrand's guards waited in ambush. There were scores of them, and they all oozed black tar from their hellish mouths and their eyes glowed red with possession. I thought to myself, 'Varric, this is your time to shine.' I stared down the leader, ensnaring him in a battle of wills. I challenged them, calling Bartrand out. 'So that's how you treat your brother, huh Bartrand!'

"'Fine! Say hello, Bianca,' I drawled, and tenderly brought my love from my back. Hailstorms and flurries of arrows spewed from her lethal mouth, felling the guards left in right in sprays of crimson glory!"

Fenris sniggered then. "Really? That's how you're going to spin it?" Everyone present laughed.

"Quiet, elf. I'm just getting started," Varric chortled, and continued without pause. "We fought all through the halls, just one lone archer and his faithful, beautiful warrior maiden against dozens of men, pouring down from the landing in droves. The bodies piled on the stairs leading up through Bartrand's fortress. I clambered over them, felling these nightmarish guardians left and right, the pile so large, I used them instead of the steps. It was actually quicker that way. 'Bartrand! I'm coming for you, you nug-humping bastard!' I whooped as soon as I reached the landing.

"Still more crazed servants of an evil master rambled in from all sides. I was surrounded. But Bianca, ever faithful, ever true, unleashed storm after storm of arrows, not a single bolt missing a target. Soon, there were but four men left in my way, and the rookies had lined up single file in one last attempt to save their master. Bianca coiled and launched one monstrous bolt that went clean through every last man standing.

"As they fell, Bartrand emerged, cowering on his knees. He held his hands up in penance, tears streaming down his cheeks. He crawled towards me. 'Oh Varric! Please forgive me, my brother!' he sniveled, his eyes pleading for mercy. 'I was just jealous of you! How could I ever compete with you for mother's love? You're strong and handsome and so very smart-"

"Alright, Varric," Aria snorted then, and Varric chuckled. "Now give us the real story."

"What? Is it that obvious?" he laughed.

Fenris picked at his teeth with a throwing knife Varric had just cleaned and whetted. "Not at all."

"Facetiousness is not lost on me, elf," Varric chided.

"You forgot the chest hair," Isabela crooned. "Bartrand was so jealous of that wondrous chest hair."

"Oh! Thanks for the reminder, Rivaini. I'll add that in later," Varric slickly replied.

"Does that mean I get to touch it? Run my fingers through it?" Isabela silkily retorted.

"Only If you're a real good girl," Varric saucily responded.

"Well that'll never happen," Merrill chimed.

"Oh, sweet thing, if you can't be good at least be good at it. Would you like to come by my room later?" was the salacious reply.

Merrill blushed and took a sip of her ale but said nothing more.

"There's a good girl," Isabela laughed.

"You want the real story, Hawke?" Varric asked, looking from Anders to Fenris for back up.

"Of course," Aria replied, setting down her cards. It was a losing hand no matter how she played it. She tossed her silvers into the ante pile and leaned back in her chair.

Fenris chuckled softly at that. "Giving up so easily?"

"I saw your hand. I'm done this round," Aria snarkily retorted. "What really happened, Varric?"

"We went in, we got ambushed by guards, and servants. They were all... Not right in the head. It was terrible. Like they'd been tortured or worse. Some of them had died and Bartrand left their bodies in the hall to rot. When I finally got to Bartrand and saw how...how the idol had destroyed him, I couldn't kill him. Blondie tried to heal him, but whatever corruption that blasted thing had bestowed upon my brother, it was beyond even Blondie's impressive skill. Bartrand asked me to kill him out of mercy, but I couldn't. Even after all he'd done, after how much I hated him... I just couldn't. Yeah he left us in the Deep Roads, but ultimately? It was he who has-had-suffered the most. Aveline offered to end him when he begged again, and Bartrand consented. I gave the idol to the elf to hide. Don't let me have it back. Ever," Varric relayed the truth with a level of sadness that was very rare indeed for the dwarf. He downed a shot and then finished his mug of ale.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there," Aria quietly replied.

"Don't be, Birdie. I'm...glad you weren't. You've seen enough to give an Archdemon nightmares," Varric gently rebuffed her.

"I've never seen corruption like that," Anders somberly stated.

"Ok. What happened? This was a party," Isabela snorted. "Let's get back to the fun bits, shall we?"

"Here, here!" Varric agreed, slapping his cards onto the table and challenging Fenris with a brow-cocked grin. Fenris laid his cards out, and the dwarf swore as he pushed his silvers to the center. "Luckiest damn fool."

"My deal?" Fenris asked, sitting back smugly in his chair.

"Do it up," Varric laughed.

"Watch him, he counts cards," Gamlen said then, as Fenris scooped them up to shuffle.

"I can count cards too," Merrill chimed, her tone that of haughty condescension.

Isabela purred at this. "That's right, sweet thing. You can."

They played at least five more hands of Wicked Grace before Anders and Gamlen left for the night. Gamlen had moved back to his hovel, which was actually now a nice, quaint, pleasant little cottage. Aria was glad of it; it meant she and Fenris didn't have to be discreet. Not that they ever held back, as it was. Merrill and Isabela went down to the tavern part of the Hanged Man to further imbibe when Isabela developed an itch she couldn't scratch herself.

Aria sat on the dais next to the fire, curled up against Fenris, while Varric smoked from the new pipe Isabela had gifted him. He sat on the chaise lounge across from them, contemplating the fire for a few moments after the ladies left.

"So you two really are serious about this whole family thing," the dwarf finally spoke. It was a statement, not a question. He blew a ring of smoke and then sent another stream through it.

"Apparently," Aria quietly replied, her eyes surveying the flames as they licked along the logs in the hearth.

"Hey Birdie, there's a crate I put in that friend of Isabela's shop down the hall. Could you go tell him I need it back now? I was hiding some documents from the Merchant's Guild," Varric said after a few moments.

Aria sat up and quizzically looked at her dwarven friend. "Why would you leave them with that oaf?" she said, standing and stretching. She kissed Fenris lightly on the top of the head. "Be right back, then. Want anything from the bar? I might get some more cider."

"Yeah, have Nora bring up a few more tankards, would you?" Varric said, his visage brightening at the prospect of more alcohol.

"Haha, sure," Aria chortled. She left the room and went down to Isabela's friend, but she'd known Varric long enough to realize when he was scheming. And he was definitely scheming with Fenris right now. That was alright. She'd get it out of her elf one way or another.

"May I pass on some scuttlebutt I eavesdropped whilst in the Merchant's Guild the other day?" Varric said then, as soon as Hawke's footsteps had gone off down the hall.

"Regarding what?" the elven warrior queried. He warily regarded Varric.

"There were a couple of lower house merchants engaged in a heated debate. They were playing the odds at taking over the Hawke Estate once the inevitable happened, and they brought up an interesting loop hole, actually."

"Go on," Fenris rasped. He ran through the list of frequent fliers in the Merchant Guild in his mind.

"Say, Hawke were to expire. Who would get the estate? Bethany will never be allowed out of the Gallows. Gamlen could make a play for it, but let's be realistic, he's not going to hang on to it. The obvious choice would be you, but there's no... Legal authorization for such a thing."

"What are you getting at, Varric?" Fenris challenged.

"Perhaps... Before you're Hawke, Fenris, and Fenris junior, maybe you should... Tie the knot."

Fenris glared at Varric but said nothing. He looked down at the frayed red ribbon on his wrist for a moment, the suggestion of marriage hitting him like a kick in the gut. Aria would lose everything by being married to him. She'd have no chance at a title or being considered of decent society. But then... When had she ever cared about any of that? She'd introduced him to nobles as her better half already and no one had dared challenge her on that. Fenris looked to Varric again, a war of emotions swirling the green depths of his eyes, but his face remained stoic and cold.

"You...wouldn't want to marry her?" Varric asked in a hushed tone as footsteps went past the door, then down the stairs. He really hoped Hawke wasn't listening.

"We've never really... Given it thought. We want a family yes, but..."

"It was just a suggestion," Varric said as he sat back in his seat. "I don't know how you two even feel about the subject. I was looking at it from an assets' retention point of view."

That's when Aria walked back in, Nora on her heels with a tray of ale tankards. Her amber gaze shot accusatory darts at the dwarf, who just chuckled in response. Aria returned to her previous position next to Fenris and rested her head on his chest.

"I don't know what you're conspiring, but I do hope it doesn't involve a fight that doesn't include me," Aria sweetly announced.

"Nothing of the sort, madame," Varric laughed. "Nothing of the sort."

"Saying it twice doesn't make true a lie," Aria sing-songed, looking first at Varric then at Fenris.

"It wasn't about a fight," Fenris quietly rasped, smoothing his fingers down her shoulder to her elbow and back up again.

"Well good. Gentlemen, that ale isn't going to stay cold," Aria accepted Fenris's statement, then pointed to the tankards.

"Much obliged," Varric said, grabbing two mugs off the tray and handing one to Fenris before he sat down and sipped off the other.

"So Varric, what of the gossip of the city? What troubles do we have to look forward to?" Aria asked at length.

"As of right now, nothing. For once, things are pretty quiet. We'll see how long it lasts," Varric replied.

Fenris drained his entire tankard and set the empty glass on the table before him. He looked down at Aria. "I'm ready to retire if you are."

Aria yawned and stretched, then stood. Fenris mirrored her and they both looked to Varric. He raised his glass to them.

"To the most dynamic duo ever to exist," he toasted, then downed the rest of his mug. "Good night, Hawke, Elf. Be careful on your way home."

"Good night, Varric," Aria said as Fenris nodded cordially at the dwarf.

They left the Hanged Man together and stepped out into Lowtown. The night air was chilly as it had been of late, and Fenris drew Aria to him as they made their way towards the Hightown steps. The sky was cloudy and the air smelled as though it might rain soon.

"So, why was Varric so eager to talk to you alone?" Aria quietly asked as they bounded up the steps.

Fenris chuckled, a low, pleasant rumble in his throat. "That really bothers you, doesn't it?"

"You're hedging," Aria replied, slapping him playfully on the chest.

"Must you know everything about everything?" he retorted, mussing her hair slightly.

She ducked away for a second then rested her head on his shoulder as they continued walking. "The less I know, the more easily I'm blindsided."

"Sometimes, it's good to be surprised," Fenris nonchalantly stated.

Aria sighed. "Is it something good then?"

Fenris kissed the top of her head and laced his fingers through hers. "It is."

"Then I'll needle you no more about it," Aria chortled quietly.

When they reached the Merchant's Guild, Fenris turned them toward his mansion instead of hers. Aria stumbled slightly at the unexpected turn and Fenris held her more tightly to him. Aria ran her fingers over the frayed ribbon on his arm.

"I should get you a new one. This one has about had it," she absent-mindedly stated, looking up at the sky. It was beginning to clear and a cold mist started to rise from the stones around them.

"Is there a way to tell for certain whether or not you are yet with child?" Fenris asked, changing the subject abruptly.

Aria turned to him, her brows knit together in a mixture of bemusement and consternation. "I... Don't know. I suppose I could ask Anders to check."

Fenris sighed grumpily at that and kissed the top of her head.

"Why do you ask?" Aria queried, casting him a suspicious sidelong gaze.

"A degree of certainty would be nice," Fenris half-snarled in response, pulling her against him yet again. The reached his mansion a few moments later.

"I don't think I am, yet," Aria whispered sadly as he took her cloak and hung it on the wall in the foyer. She took his proffered hand and followed him up to his room.

He was silent as he undressed, and Aria noted a fine trembling had taken his normally steady hands. She stopped him when he fumbled too long with the buckle that held his shoulder armour in place. Aria's hands took over and Fenris watched her so closely, she started to blush. A thousand thousand times he'd looked at her like this, and every time it still brought a flush to her cheeks.

"You're nervous," he said after a moment.

"I am? You're the one who can't even undo their own armour for the shaking in your hands," Aria retorted.

Fenris chuckled. "Is that why you took over? And here I thought you just couldn't wait to get my clothes off."

Aria mussed his hair and let him finish removing his armour while she went to work on her own. She was unlacing the back of the armoured bodice when his hands took over. She waited patiently, wondering why he was taking his time, but then his lips found the side of the column of her throat and she suddenly couldn't think anymore. He stole her away, and she hoped she had the same effect on him.

"Oooh! I like the green one!" Merrill chimed from the other side of Isabela as they perused one of the high-fashion shops in Hightown.

"You like anything green, sweet thing," Isabela chortled, lightly punching the Dalish in the arm.

"What? It is pretty," Merrill defended, taking the sleeve of the strangely dusty green gown and feeling the fabric. "Is this silk?"

"Aye, of fine quality, too," Isabela replied, eying the dress with a covetous gaze.

Aria sighed and looked over at the clock on the wall. It was only noon, and this was the last shop left in Hightown they hadn't been this morning. Isabela had demanded girl time and Aria had promised her some new items for the pirate's wardrobe. Merrill never really wanted or bought much; she just liked having their company. She was much less angry with Aria, what with all the Champion had been through. Aria hated pity.

"You don't look with child. Are you with child?" Merrill suddenly blurted.

Isabela stifled a guffaw, but failed miserably and had the good sense to walk to the other side of the shop. A few of the patrons turned their heads to stare at Aria, most of their eyes darted straight to her belly before they awkwardly looked away. Aria groaned.

"Merrill, for the hundredth time, I don't know," Aria nonchalantly replied, walking up to the jewelry case. A small howling wolf pendant with blood-red garnets for eyes had seized her attention. It looked to be made of silver, but the metal seemed to be lit from within. It was the same with the long chain that bore the pendant.

"He's become a bit... Obsessive," Merrill said from next to her.

Aria waved the shop keep over and he extracted the necklace from the case. "He has," Aria absently agreed, lifting the pendant up to the light. "I'll take it," Aria said after a moment, deposited a bunch of hair ribbons on the counter, then snatched up her coin purse.

"Oh no, Champion. Your gold is no good here," the shop keep sweetly said, his blue eyes sincere. "A gift. It is yours."

Aria shook her head. "But it isn't for me. And that is no ordinary precious metal. Here, for your troubles and kindness," Aria replied, handing him 10 gold sovereigns and 70 silver pieces.

"You're too kind! Thank you!" the shopkeeper gushed, putting the coin swiftly into the till. "Thank you!"

Aria nodded and then looked to her companions. "Anything else before we go?"

Isabela snatched up the green dress Merrill had been ogling, and Merrill grabbed a new pair of Dalish crafted boots. Aria shook her head and tossed the shopkeeper another three sovereigns before they were on their way again. Isabela guided them toward the Blooming Rose. Apparently, she'd made friends with the whorehouse's owner.

They lunched there, with several of the "girls"; they all swooned over the merchandise the three companions had picked up that day. The Madame even graced them with her presence, and inquired after Aria's health. Anymore, nothing was sacred. Everyone knew Aria's business before she even knew it herself.

From there, Aria demanded a visit to the Chantry Gardens. She was starting to run low on some of her favourite soaps and needed to procure the ingredients Bethany needed to make them. Aria hadn't seen her sister in nearly 6 months now, but through Anders' underground smuggling operation with the Circle mages, Aria had been able to sneak ingredients and niceties to her sister. In return, Aria received reports about the Circle and her soaps. It was a service Anders was all too happy to supply, since Aria had helped him gather the strange ingredients needed for whatever Tevinter spell he was going to do on himself. As far as Aria knew now, Anders was still a Justice plus one.

Aria bade Isabela and Merrill farewell at the Hanged Man and took the flowers to Darktown. Anders was in his clinic, healing a very pregnant woman. He sent her away once finished and locked his clinic doors while he entertained Aria.

"You should really see about donating some of these soaps to the folks in Darktown and Lowtown. I'm sure they'd appreciate it," Anders said as he gathered up the materials Aria had laid out for him to inspect.

"Yes, I'm sure that will go over nicely. Henceforth I'll be known as 'The Champion who made Darktown less smelly'," Aria replied.

Anders chuckled at this and sat at the table, a pile of scrolls in front of him. "There is that, yes," he laughed. "Everyone knows of your obsession with hygiene. I don't doubt it would be met with some scrutiny, but then they could go around and say 'I smell like a Champion!'"

"Pre or post battle? Not that I've seen much of that lately," Aria retorted.

Anders sighed. "It's maddening to see him doing everything right. Well, almost everything."

Aria rubbed the back of her neck in trepidation as she sat across from him. "Almost everything?"

"Normally people go about starting families after exchange of vow. Though, I doubt anything could ever come in between the likes of you two," he said with carefully guarded facial expression. He did not meet her eyes and instead busied himself with scribbles on the scrolls.

It was Aria's turn to sigh. "And I wish people would mind their own damned business when it comes to us."

"I wasn't trying to be judgmental, I just... I want you to be cared for. I want you to be safe. And most of all, I want you to be happy," Anders said, finally meeting her gaze. His eyes were dark and cold, but warmth seeped into them as he looked upon her. "This is the healthiest I think I've ever seen you look."

"Thanks... I think," Aria laughed, smoothing her simple fawn-hued cotton skirt.

"The Knight-Commander might be coming to you, just so you know."

Aria groaned and put her head on the table. "What now?" she said, her voice muffled by her folded arms.

Anders chuckled quietly. "There were three mages that escaped the night before last. The templars are saying they used blood magic to escape and they smashed their phylacteries before they left."

Aria peered up at him over the crook of her elbow. "Every mage is a blood mage to them anymore."

"My sentiments exactly," Anders darkly agreed.

"I won't be able to go track them down, so it doesn't matter," Aria said, sitting back straight. She plucked at a orchid and ate one of the petals.

Anders arched a brow at her. "You in need of courage?"

"Huh?"

"In the Anderfels, nobles would give orchids to their armies to eat, because it gives them courage."

"That's... Interesting. But no, it just looked tasty so I ate it," Aria replied on a laugh.

Anders stood up abruptly and walked around the table. He held out his hand to her and she took it, giving him a befuddled look. He cupped her face in his hands and examined her eyes, then smoothed his hands down her arms to her sides.

"What are you doing?" she asked him, hating the sudden thrill in her pulse that occurred at his touch.

"Shhh," Anders hushed her, then smoothed his hands over her belly.

Aria giggled. "Stop, that tick-" but the warmth that coursed suddenly through her belly stopped her words. Anders was glowing, the way he did when he was healing someone. She could feel his ethereal presence in her veins.

A moment later, he stumbled and sat down on the bench Aria had just vacated. He looked up at her with a mixture of deep sadness, desperation, and awe.

"What?" Aria asked.


	53. Chapter FIFTY TWO

**Chapter FIFTY-TWO**

Aria gently shook his shoulders. "Anders! What did you find? Is something wrong?"

Anders shook his head and stood, albeit unsteadily. He took the flowers and clippings Aria had brought with her over to his work bench and started packaging them in waxed paper. Aria walked over to him and watched him for a moment, her heart hammering so loudly she heard her pulse roaring in her ears.

"What did you see?" she asked again.

Anders went back to the table and covered his face with his hands. His shoulders gently shook and he brushed her hands off his shoulders when she tried to turn him to face her. Aria stumbled back a few steps at his brusqueness.

"Just... Just go home, Aria," he quietly replied, refusing to uncover his face.

"You're seriously scaring me. What did you see?"

"Get out! Go home!" Anders roared then, standing so quickly the entire table vaulted over. Ink flew and stained the floor in red and black splatters. Scrolls littered the floor in various states of disarray. And Anders... Anders was Justice. "Leave, harlot, before I throw you out!"

Aria reflexively reached for her daggers, but they were not on her. She was not prepared to fight. Instead, she heeded his words and backtracked towards the clinic door. She quickly stepped outside and slammed it behind her, then ran for the shortcut to her estate.

About half an hour later, she emerged through the cellar and asked Orana to draw her a bath. The sewers were never a pleasant endeavour and Aria was filthy from her travels. While she waited for the bath water to heat on the coals, she went up to her study and started reading a tome on fighting techniques. She felt that with all the inactivity lately, she would grow soft, weak, and slow. And that would mean she'd get dead much more easily. What she really needed now, however, was a distraction. Justice had called her a harlot. Anders had been so upset that the spirit came to his defense.

She didn't realize how badly her hands were shaking until she dropped the book. It clattered to the floor and she cursed under her breath as she moved to pick it up.

"You're upset," that familiar raspy voice sounded from the door.

Aria jumped, his presence startling her. "I...didn't hear you come in," she managed, unable to keep the quavering out of her voice.

Fenris strode in and gently took her by the arm. He set the book on the table and led her from her study to the other end of the mansion where her room was. The water was ready and he poured it into the tub for her. He sat at the desk, perusing some scrolls he'd laid out there while she immersed herself in the foamy hot water.

"You were upset," he softly repeated after a few moments. He turned and faced her in the chair.

Aria sighed. "It was something... It was Anders."

"What happened?" Fenris curtly asked, though she knew his piqued ire was not directed at her. He sat forward in the chair and she felt rather than saw his eyes suddenly assessing her.

"I went there today to drop off some things for him to take to Bethany and he did that whole... Healer aura thing, but then flipped out. Justice style," Aria relayed. "Justice called me a harlot."

Fenris stood and started pacing, his fists clenching and unclenching. "He has no right—healing aura thing?"

"Yeah, I...ate an orchid petal, which he thought was strange and he... Did that healing thing he does, except he was examining my stomach and then he just... He flipped out. Called me a harlot and told me to get out," Aria replied.

"You... Ate an orchid petal and he flipped out?" Fenris asked in bemusement.

"Yes. Sort of. I don't know what-"

Then Fenris started laughing, first low and deep in his throat until it bubbled from his mouth. He walked over to where she sat in the tub and slipped his hand under the bubbling foam of the water. His palm rested lovingly on her lower belly and he looked up at Aria.

Realization dawned on her then. Anders had been mostly relieved when he would tell her she was not with child. His reaction... Jealousy, hatred, fear... Aria's eyes grew wide and she swiftly covered Fenris's hand with her own as realization dawned.

"Many warriors of old consumed orchids before battle for courage," Fenris softly said then, his hand smoothing slow, steady circles around her belly button. Aria fought the heat beginning to throb very low in her abdomen. "He craves it even in the womb."

Aria airily laughed and rested her head on the back of the tub. "Anders said something of the same. He won't be a warrior, we decided this. Remember?"

Fenris's hand slipped lower and Aria gasped. "He might not have a choice," he whispered before his lips claimed hers.

Aria lay on her side, Fenris's body molded to her back. His hand caressed her abdomen and his chin rested on her shoulder as they watched the fire in the hearth. Aria sighed contentedly and closed her eyes. The way he'd made love to her this time was different than any other time. He absolutely worshiped her, and she wasn't about to complain.

"Shall we keep it a secret?" he murmured against her neck even as he pressed kisses there.

She didn't bother opening her eyes to reply. "Yes. For now. Though it might be hard."

"When was the last time it was ever easy?" Fenris growled, his teeth briefly seizing her earlobe. "Nothing is ever easy."

Aria giggled at this and turned under the covers to face him. She ran her fingers along the chiseled line of his jaw until she cupped his chin. She kissed him softly on the mouth, then pulled away. "I love you."

Fenris caught her hand at his cheek and pressed another kiss to her palm. "I love you."

"Promise me something?" Aria asked after a brief silent moment.

"Tell me, and it is done," Fenris breathed, tucking one of her wildly out of place locks behind her ear.

"Don't get even more protective now, please?"

He growled in response and pushed her so that he rested above her, looking down into her eyes as he pinned both of her hands on either side of her head. "That will be difficult."

"Everything with you is," Aria countered, relaxing under him.

Something in his eyes changed then, and he abruptly got off of her to sit on the edge of the bed. He looked over at the parcels he'd brought with him earlier that evening before he'd fetched her from the study. Aria moved to sit beside him, her head resting on his shoulder.

"What's wrong?" she softly asked, her fingers arranging the hair on the back of his head so that it looked much less disheveled.

"I... I have a promise to ask of you too," he stammered and stood, then went over to the parcels. He unwrapped something, shielding it from her gaze with the tantalizing view of his naked backside.

"Anything," Aria chimed, smiling devilishly as he turned back to face her, a small box in his hand.

"Be careful what you say; you may not agree to this," Fenris whispered as he walked back over to her. He knelt before her and took her hand in his free one.

"Why wouldn't I?" Aria laughed, puzzled by his sudden somberness. Not that he wasn't always a brooding, serious type, just... This was much different. A fine trembling took his hands where he was normally so unerringly steady.

"I have nothing but my love and my sword to offer you, but they're yours until I draw my last breath," he quietly answered, opening the small leather box.

Inside on plush green velvet was a beautiful platinum ring imbued with lyrium and set with a wondrous tear-drop cut green diamond. On one side of the diamond, the platinum was wrought in the shape of a hawk's head, and on the other, that of a wolf. The two creatures' noses touched at the narrow top of the teardrop. The band was three platinum vines woven together with lyrium lacing through them in its ice-blue incandescent beauty.

Aria was stunned. They hadn't really talked about marriage. They hadn't needed to. She'd always be his, and he'd always be hers. But his asking for the vow... It stirred something primal within her and she answered it. Tears sprang to her eyes as she looked from his eyes, to the ring, and back again. She said nothing, but stood and walked over to where her own parcels lay. She pulled the box containing the necklace out, along with the scarlet ribbon she'd purchased earlier that day. She sat back down on the bed in front of where he still knelt.

"I don't own you. I'm not your mistress. I'm your equal. You are your own man, but you are also mine. And everything I am, everything I have, is yours," Aria said, offering him the ribbon and the box.

He set them on the bed next to her, plucked the ring from the velvet, and slid it onto her proffered finger. He kissed the top of her hand and wiped her tears. "I am forever your servant, of my own accord."

Aria's eyes streamed with happiness and she motioned for him to look at the box. He chuckled softly and opened it. He held up the pendant to the light and smiled appreciatively. He handed her the necklace and bent his head so that she could place it around his neck. When it was re-clasped, he buried his face against her collarbone and wrapped his arms around her waist. Hers went about his shoulders and they stayed that way for quite some time.

"When will we announce it?" Aria asked him after several moments passed and he rejoined her on the bed. She lay with her head on his chest, her fingers toying with the pendant.

He kissed the top of her head and sighed. "Which announcement?"

Aria giggled against his chest and lifted her head to look into his eyes. "Our engagement. Not the baby. That's none of anyone's god-damned business yet."

Fenris rumbled deep in his throat at this and kissed her forehead. "I leave that up to you. I never thought I'd even get married."

Aria rested her head on his chest once more and turned the ring back and forth on her finger, watching as the many facets caught and refracted the light of the hearth. "We probably should make it right away."

"I agree," he sighed, his fingers going through her love-mussed hair. "Save your honour," he added on a chuckle.

Aria snorted at this. "Like I give a shit about that. It's no secret we're...vigorous in our love."

"True. But oh how the Hightown tongues will wag," Fenris rasped sarcastically.

"I've always wanted a necklace made of human noble tongues," Aria darkly stated.

"I'll keep that in mind," he sleepily laughed.

"I love you," Aria whispered.

"I love you," Fenris replied. "Sleep now. Tomorrow's going to be a long day."

"Like there's any other kind of day," she muttered against his chest as she closed her eyes.

It was nearly noon when they both finally woke. Outside, Hightown bustled with its daily grind. Fenris woke first and stared down at the sleeping woman whose head still rested on his chest. He sighed and ran his fingers through her hair, then caught her hand up in his as she stirred. He looked at the ring there and a surge of emotion he couldn't quite place stole his breath for a moment. She was absolutely his, and it was there for all the world to see. His eyes darted to the necklace on his chest and the same emotion came back again. He was hers and only hers, and this token was there to prove it.

The moment was shattered however, when Aria suddenly got up from bed and bolted for the chamber pot. He was right behind her, and held her hair as she retched for a few moments, though little came up. Orana heard the commotion and raced in with a pitcher of water, a wash basin, and some cloths and towels. Luckily, Fenris had donned one of the robes Aria had purchased for him when he stayed over. He'd thrown the sheet around Aria as the other elf came in.

Orana helped clean Aria's face and offered her the toothbrush the Champion had had specially crafted. Aria brushed her teeth and Orana took her leave. Aria sat on the bed and looked out the window.

"It's official," she whispered.

Fenris crawled across the bed to sit behind her, his arms around her shoulders. "Shall I send for the midwife?"

"No. I doubt it's far along enough yet to warrant that. Besides, the sickness has passed, I think. I feel fine now. But, I should... I should start planning the...wedding," Aria said after a moment, letting the warmth from his body flood into hers. His mere presence comforted her immensely.

"What do you want?" he asked, his lips at her shoulder.

"For a wedding? I haven't a fucking clue. I never gave it much thought," Aria groused, turning to let him kiss her mouth.

"Let's make it a small affair then. Just friends. I'm sure Varric can officiate," Fenris suggested, his chin on her shoulder again.

"Varric? Since when?"

"Since Aveline and Donnic's wedding. We just need the contracts from the Magistrar."

Aria stood and stretched, letting the sheet fall to the floor. Fenris stood behind her and ran his hands up her sides, then wrapped them around her shoulders. He kissed her lips and then gently pushed her towards her closet.

While she selected something to wear, Fenris grabbed some clean under-armour garments from the bureau Aria had bought and set up for him months ago. He put on his armour, watching as she got dressed. She wore his favourite green lace underwear set, a slip of pale cream, and her favourite black day gown, which was trimmed with silver and emerald, with emerald brocade down the front. She tugged on her favourite pair of black suede boots from Orlais and took the arm he offered. She tied the scarlet ribbon around his wrist and they were on their way.

The line to see the magistrar was unusually long, but they were ushered to the front by templars. Aria felt bad about this abuse of her station, but only for a moment. Everyone in this city owed her their lives. Too often they forgot that little tidbit of knowledge, she thought darkly.

The magistrar, much to Aria's chagrin, was Seneschal Brann. Aria was surprised when Fenris lay a restraining hand on her arm. It was a gesture that said simply, "I got this." _Oh, this will be good_, she thought to herself giddily.

"Ah the Champion and her...elven consort... How wonderful of you to grace us with your presence," Brann sniggered as they approached his desk.

"Marriage contract, if you please," Fenris coldly stated.

Brann's eyes flew wide. "I...beg your pardon?"

"You heard me, lap dog," Fenris replied in the same chilly tone.

"How...how dare someone like you-"

Aria unsheathed a dagger and flicked her wrist with the keen blade in her hand through a brief but lethal appearing kata. Brann took the hint with wide eyes and a sudden gulp of air.

"I... I see. One moment," the Seneschal stammered, then fumbled through a folder on his desk. He produced two sheets of parchment and handed one to Fenris, then one to Aria. "Have your master of ceremony, I'm assuming that will be Varric Tethras given your unsavory connections, sign that and return it once the deed is done."

"Thank you. And before you presume to look down your nose at me, your little play thing, you know, the elven _**man**_ from the Blooming Rose? He said to tell you he had a wonderful meal for you planned on his lunch break at work," Fenris said, taking Aria's arm. They turned and walked out, and Aria was only able to contain the riotous laughter until just before they were out of the Seneschal's office.

The look on the man's face had been, in a word, priceless. He turned redder than a ripe apple and his eyes were wide in absolute horror. It wasn't like he kept the secret well. He shouldn't have been surprised. But coming from Fenris... It had made Aria's day.

Her laughter was cut short, however. The Guard-Captain waited at the landing outside the Seneschal's office. Aria groaned and took small comfort in the reassuring squeeze Fenris gave her arm.

"Hawke! I heard you were in the Keep. What brings...you..." her eyes saw the bold-print on the top of the scrolls both Aria and Fenris carried they flew wide. "You're... Getting married?!"

"Well why don't you just tell the whole damn city," Aria snarkily stated.

"I'm sorry, Hawke. I just... Wow! That's...that's a big step. Good for you," Aveline quietly replied, leading them away from the mess of eavesdroppers who were now abuzz with the juiciest bit of gossip Hightown had been privy to in months.

They reached the Guard-Captain's office and Aveline closed the door after motioning Donnic in. Aria fetched a quill off Aveline's desk and began filling in what parts of the document she could. Fenris did the same. Donnic clapped him on the back and asked Aria how she liked the ring.

"How did you know?" Aria asked the guard, her eyes darting suspiciously at Fenris, who chuckled in response.

"He asked for the best jeweler in town. I told him to go see the man who made our rings," Donnic earnestly replied.

"Let me see!" Aveline chortled, a sound most unnatural coming from the boorish woman. Aria let her grab the hand and inspect the ring. "Oh that's stunning! It's perfect!"

Aria gently took her hand back, trying to hide her annoyance at being pawed at. Donnic pointed to the necklace Fenris wore and inquired after it.

"I gave her a ring, she gave me a necklace. I've always worn the ribbon," Fenris answered him.

"So when is the ceremony? And where? Surely you're not having it at the Hanged Man!" Aveline gushed.

Aria and Fenris looked at each other, and in unison they said, "What's wrong with the Hanged Man?"

Donnic guffawed and Aveline's visage waxed severe as she looked between the three of them.

"You'd say your vows in that dump?"

"Hey, Corff's done a lovely job with the remodel," Aria defensively stated. "It's not a total slum dive anymore."

Aveline threw up her arms and groaned in resignation. "Fine. When?"

"Tonight," Fenris said, looking for a second to Aria, who nodded in agreement.

"Wh—Tonight?" Aveline asked in consternation. "But Donnic and I will be on patrol and—"

"You're the Guard-Captain. Put someone else on patrol," Aria tersely replied.

"She has a point, love," Donnic gently said.

Aveline sighed. "Right. What time?"

Aria looked to Fenris, who imperceptibly shrugged. "8 o'clock. Nothing fancy. Just saying the vows, and making merry the rest of the evening."

"Think of it as Wicked Grace, with a little bit more formality," Fenris added.

"You're still playing that?" Aveline bellowed, her eyes shooting accusatory darts at Donnic.

"I didn't say he was. I simply said, think of it as that," Fenris interjected, coming to Donnic's rescue.

"Fine. Hanged Man. 8 o'clock," Aveline consented, waving them out.

From there, the dynamic duo went to the Hanged Man to call on Varric. The grapevine proved to be highly expedient, once more. One of the small, malnourished street urchins Varric sometimes employed as his eyes and ears in the city was just scampering down the stairs from Varric's room when Aria and Fenris were on their way up.

"Our good news precedes us," Fenris dryly stated as the child swept past, several silvers jingling in his hand.

"No one can possibly keep a secret from Varric," Aria groaned as they alighted the landing. She stopped suddenly and reached for the wall. Her head swam for a split second and she lost her balance.

Fenris instinctively steadied her. Concern knit his already brooding brows together and when their gazes met, Aria laughed slightly. She'd never been too much of a klutz, and this was most unlike her.

"Are you alright?" he asked under his breath, for Varric had jut opened the door for them.

"Yes, I think so. That was just... Unexpected," Aria replied, her body returned to normal.

Varric's keen skills of observation noted Aria's posture and Fenris's amplified anxiety, his brows shooting up in amusement. His eyes shot to Aria's hand and that smug grin of his split his lips.

"Come in, come in! We have much to plan!" the dwarven merchant prince cajoled, ushering them inside with a flourish. "It's a lovely ring, isn't it?" he said as he closed the door behind them.

Aria wryly laughed. "Yes. So 8 o'clock is when I told Aveline and Donnic to be here. I want as quiet an affair as possible."

"We both do," Fenris growled, then winked when Aria gave him a look of sheepishness.

Varric chuckled and waved them over to sit by the hearth. They complied and Nora brought a tray of various hard beverages. Aria asked her to return with some of the tavern's new delicacy, taken from Fenris's repertoire, a drink of mixed coffee, steamed milk, white chocolate, and brandy. Very light on the brandy and topped with whipped cream and cinnamon.

Varric's brows went up in surprise when Nora left to retrieve the odd request. "You're still turning down pints?"

Fenris chuckled low in his throat and Aria punched him lightly on his chest. He had the decency to feign hurt.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I am," Aria curtly replied, daring the dwarf to inquire further.

He was all to happy to acquiesce. "Saving it for the wedding feast?"

Aria laughed. "Dispense with the ferreting, Varric. Just ask. You may or may not get a straight answer."

"Alright, Birdie," Varric chuckled. "Are you finally?"

Aria looked to Fenris for a second and he replied for her. "We are expecting, yes."

Varric whooped and clinked the rim of his tankard against Fenris's. "Congratulations! Today is a very big day indeed!"

"Just—keep that part hush hush, hmm?" Aria said, her undertone laced with a warning.

"I wouldn't dream of crossing you, madame," Varric glibly stated, tipping his tankard toward her in salute before he knocked back a heavy draught.

They sat in silence until after Nora had returned with Aria's drink and left again. Aria paced around the room, looking over the décor for the thousandth time, while she sipped the hot, comforting drink. Fenris and Varric watched her until Varric broke the quiet.

"Traditional vows then?" he asked, taking the scrolls Fenris handed him.

Fenris shrugged. "I don't know what traditional is anymore."

Varric laughed at this and when he turned to get Aria's input, he once again looked at Aria with surprise. She'd plucked an orchid from one of his vases and was absent-mindedly nibbling on a petal while she perused the new painting next to his bookcase. Varric cleared his throat.

"Uh, Birdie? I don't know if those are safely edible," Varric stated.

"Hmm?" Aria replied, turning to face him while she popped another petal in her mouth. "Nah, they're fine. Good for courage, so I'm told."

"Humans are so strange," Varric sighed. "Get over here and plan your wedding, dammit."

"Oh, right, wedding," Aria distractedly said, plopping down next to Fenris, who slid his hand brazenly over her belly. Aria swatted him away and Varric laughed.

"You thought he was bad the past couple months? He's going to be a thousand times as fierce now," the dwarf chortled.

"I'll still best him in a fight. Even with a belly like a watermelon," Aria challenged while Fenris smugly shook his head.

A soft rapping sounded at the door and Varric called out to whomever to enter. Merrill and Isabela strode in, the pirate quick to close the door while Merrill bounded happily over to Aria. The Dalish kissed her on the forehead.

"Marriage! Finally!" she squealed, dancing around the room.

Isabela made a much calmer entrance and sat on the other side of Fenris, holding out her hand to Aria so that she could look at the ring. Aria warily obliged.

"Now that's a very pretty ring," Isabela purred. Her eyes darted to Fenris's chest and she gently lifted the pendant to look at it. "And that's... Different. Normally the man gets a ring."

"A pendant on a chain was far more practical for me, given the nature of our profession," Fenris dryly stated, his posture slightly stiffening at the closeness of the other rogue.

"Oooh, and you have a new ribbon! It's very pretty," Merrill chimed, indicating the ribbon around the elf's wrist.

"I always wondered about that," Varric chuckled. "Back to the vows, though. Traditional or unconventional?"

Aria quirked a brow at the dwarf. "When have we ever been anything that could even be remotely construed as traditional?"

"Fair point. So you'll say your own vows, yaddi-yadda, and then I'll pronounce you, sign on the dotted lines, and poof. You're joined in holy," he coughed for effect here, "matrimony."

"So... You won't be Hawke anymore?" Merrill queried, her eyes wide with confusion. "I didn't know Fenris had a last name."

"Nobody needs to change names," Aria replied. "We'll just be 'legally bound'." She did air quotations on those last two words.

"Oh, right. So... If you die, he gets your stuff?" Merrill asked.

Varric almost choked on the draught he'd just started to take from his tankard and Fenris glared at the other elf. Isabela guffawed and hopped up to clap her arm around Merrill's shoulders. Aria just giggled and shook her head, her fingers lacing through Fenris's.

"Something like that, Daisy," Varric managed.

Aria sipped from her mug, saddened that the delicious drink had gone cold. She handed it to Fenris, who immediately flared the brands in his hands until steam rose from the cup once more. Aria kissed him on the cheek and took the mug back, sipping happily at its contents.

"Oooh, that's clever," Merrill chirped. "What are you drinking, Hawke?"

"A Tevinter delicacy," Aria replied, handing the cup to the Dalish elf when she popped down on the rug at Aria's feet. Merrill took a tentative sip, then a longer drink. She gave the cup back and rubbed her belly.

"Oh that's lovely! Needs more brandy though. It's a little weak," Merrill relayed her assessment.

Isabela slyly smiled at Aria through half-slit lids. "You got a virgin White Elf?"

Fenris snorted at this. "That's none of your-"

"I meant the drink, sweet thing. That's what it's called. But that really explains a lot... She popped your cherry, did she? Oh that must have been quite the wild experience," the rogue shipless-captain purred her interruption.

"Shut up," Fenris snarled, though his ire subsided when Aria kissed his cheek again.

"I'd do it again in a heartbeat," Aria whispered in his ear, so softly it was difficult, even for him, to discern the words.

"Seriously though, Aria. A virgin drink? You?" Isabela prodded, her eyes assessing Aria from head to toe. "Your skin is glowing, your hair is lustrous, and you can't stop smiling. If I didn't know better-"

"She's getting married today? Honestly, Rivaini. You should find a strapping young lad or ten and settle down," Varric intervened.

"I'd rather have a beardless dwarf with sexy chest hair," Isabela silkily retorted.

"I've told you, I'm a taken man," Varric glibly replied.

"Oh whatever, spoil sport," Isabela snorted. Then she grabbed Aria's hand and yanked her up from the sofa, almost causing the other rogue to spill her drink. "Hurry up and down that already. We've got to get you ready for your wedding."

Aria laughed and took a long drink from the mug, then handed it to Fenris to finish. She bent and kissed him lightly on the lips. "I'll be back."

"I'll be waiting," he rasped in response, watching as Merrill and Isabela dragged his betrothed out the door. "Thank you," he then said to Varric when they were gone.

"For what?" Varric chuckled.

"Covering for her. It will be difficult to keep it secret for long."

"Personally, if I were either of you, I wouldn't give a shit who knew," the dwarf candidly stated. "Just be careful. There are those who would use that knowledge against both of you."

"I'm well aware," Fenris darkly acknowledged. "I hope the mage knows what's good for him and stays away this evening, especially after what he called her yesterday."

The storyteller gears started turning behind Varric's eyes. "What did Blondie do?"

Fenris glared coldly at the embers in the hearth. "He went abomination and that thing he's shared bodies with called Aria a harlot."

Varric was genuinely appalled. "He didn't... That's... Wow. He's really that jealous. I thought it would pass but it seems he's only gotten worse."

Fenris snarled at this. "What do you mean?"

Varric lifted his hands in an apologetic, appeasing gesture. "Whoa, it's nothing you need worry about. He just... Well it's obvious and you're aware. He loves her. He's always loved her and when he had the chance to be with her, he pushed her away. But, clearly, she's made her choice. You put a ring on her finger and she's having your child. Doesn't get any more lucid than that."

Fenris 'hmphed' and drained the rest of his tankard. Varric rang for Nora and she appeared a few moments later with a fresh tray. Fenris took two of the four moonshine shots one right after the other and sat back against the sofa, his cold green eyes glaring into the fire.

"Elf, it changes nothing," Varric stated, taking one of the moonshine shots himself. He sought to placate the brooding, angry warrior.

"It doesn't," Fenris agreed, his voice possessing less of a hard edge. "But make no mistake. The time will come when he turns on us," he said, pointing first at Varric and himself, then gestured at the door. "On her. And when that moment happens, I'll end him myself."

"I'll drink to that," Varric darkly stated, and they toasted steins of ale on the matter. "Alright, Broody. Enough talk of killing. You're getting married to the most lethal, most beautiful, most sought after person in Kirkwall, and maybe even the Free Marches. Let the happy prevail."

A slight tug of a smile took the corner of Fenris's mouth. "No, I'm marrying the one person in this world for whom I was made."

"Here here!" Varric cheered, and they toasted again. "So about those vows. What are you going to say?"


	54. Chapter FIFTY-THREE

**Chapter FIFTY-THREE**

Isabela dragged Aria to Hightown while Merrill bounded cheerfully in tow. They went to the most posh dress shop and the rogue pirate captain forced Aria into purchasing a floor-length bright silver gown, trimmed in emerald. It had a modest train off the full skirt and a fitted bodice with a mostly open back, save for the glittering silver lace overlay where the heavy fabric stopped and her bared skin began. The sleeves were three-quarter length and opened wide at the elbow, with the fabric draping nearly a foot long in glittering emerald lace covered beauty. Merrill picked out some shimmery green, strappy, wedge open-toes for Aria to complete the look. Aria refused a veil or headdress. She hated them, and the whole "unveiling the bride" thing creeped her out, to be honest.

From the dress shop, Isabela dragged Aria to one of the more high-end salons in the city. By then the whole city was abuzz with the rumour of the Champion finally tying the knot with her long-time elven lover. As soon as Aria sat down in the chair, three of the stylists rushed over and cooed over the ring. One of them was an elf, and she voiced her ecstatic opinion.

"It really gives us hope. Someone like you marrying an elf when so many shems look down on us as if we're lesser beings," the elven girl said as she started combing out Aria's hair. Aria noted the Dalish tattoos on her face and smiled.

"He's no ordinary elf," one of the other human girls scoffed. "Have you _seen_ him? He's more gorgeous than any human man I've ever seen. No offense, Champion."

"Oh, none taken," Aria beamed. "I get to marry him."

The stylists all squealed girlishly at this and went back to work with renewed vigor. By the time Aria, Merrill, and Isabela emerged, hardly any of them were recognizable. Merrill's hair was the same, though its shine had been enhanced with product from the salon, but she wore a subtle amount of makeup that dramatically enhanced her eyes and high cheek bones.

Isabela's hair had been swept up loosely on the top of her head in a mess of luxurious, dark mocha curls. A number of tendrils escaped the updo, framing her exotic face. Her makeup was a bit more dramatic and made her look every bit the fiery, fierce woman she was.

Both Isabela and Merrill gasped when the stylists turned Aria around to face them. Aria had told the stylists she wanted a natural look, something that was fresh and not too gaudy. The elven stylist had said it would be easy, as Aria's skin had a natural glow and she was already radiant. Her cheeks were graced with a soft light pink blush. Her eyes had a slightly glittery, soft green shadow on the lids, her lashes curled and darkened with thick, black, muted mascara. They'd trimmed and plucked her brows into perfect dark arches. Her lips glistened with a natural light pink gloss. Half her hair cascaded down her back in lustrous silvery-white waves while the top half was swept up on the top of her head in a beautiful, intricate bun. Wispy curls framed her face and there were green and white gems sparkling all throughout the 'do.

"Is it that bad?" Aria laughed uncomfortably when Isabela and Merrill just gaped at her in shock.

"Bad? Oh... Oh no," Merrill chimed, stepping forward.

"You're going to give that elf a heart attack when he sees you again," Isabela purred.

They rented a carriage to take them discretely back to Hawke's estate to finish getting ready. Just as they were getting set to leave, Aveline came to the door. She had gone to a salon as well and none of them hardly recognized her. Aria couldn't ever remember a time she'd seen Aveline in anything but armour. She wore a simple, beautiful moss green dress that was sleeveless and had a cape. Her trademark orange hair was curled and hung loosely around her shoulders. She still wore her sword belt, and she had knee length black boots on, but the look was... Stunning.

"Look at you!" Aveline gushed as Aria strode into the foyer.

Orana beamed at her mistress, tears in her eyes, as she closed the door behind the Guard-Captain. Outside, the din of a crowd could be heard. Aria groaned inwardly at this. Couldn't she do anything without a damn audience anymore?

"Look at me? Look at you!" Aria cried as the bigger woman engulfed her in a hug.

"Oh this old thing?" Aveline nervously laughed, looking down at her dress.

"Shut up. I've never seen you without armour on. You should dress up more often. You look gorgeous!" Aria said.

"And I've seen you in dresses hundreds of times but never... Never like this. Your elven husband-to-be is going to have a heart attack."

"Hey, big girl. That's what I said," Isabela crooned, taking Aria's arm. "We should go. It sounds as though the crowd might hinder our passage."

Little more was said as the entourage piled into the large four-hourse carriage waiting for them. Bodahn and Sandal rode behind on Aria's horse, while the five women, Aria, Isabela, Merrill, Aveline, and Orana, rode in the carriage. It took them little more than thirty minutes to reach the Hanged Man.

Aria was absolutely speechless when she exited the carriage last. Corff had decorated the tavern inside and out, with white, purple, and green streamers and flowers everywhere. Gamlen was standing on the top step while a crowd of people surrounded the entrance. They parted and made a path for Aria, and she realized Corff had rolled out a white carpet for the occasion.

"I'm your only relative here, so it's only fitting that I give you away," Gamlen said as she reached him. He took her arm and she smiled at him.

"I wish Bethany could be here. I didn't have time to arrange for it and I doubt Meredith would let her come," Aria sadly stated, noting that there were a number of templars in attendance. One was the knight, Cullen. She nodded at him and he bowed slightly in response.

"You're probably right," Gamlen sadly stated. "But you do look lovely, my dear. Absolutely lovely. Your mother would have been so happy to see this."

Aria squeezed his arm. "She is seeing this. And Papa. And Carver."

Gamlen stiffened at this and pulled himself together. He cleared his throat. "Well then. Let's go get you married."

The door opened and Gamlen ushered Aria inside. Her friends were the only ones in the tavern and Varric stood on the steps that led up to his room, one of the Chantry's officiating books in his hands. Fenris stood there waiting next to him. He wore his traditional armour, though it had been repaired and cleaned meticulously to mint condition. His eyes widened when he saw her.

Gamlen walked her slowly up to the makeshift altar on the steps and when they reached Fenris and Varric, he handed her off to the elf.

"You look... Amazing," he whispered to her.

Aria beamed at him. "You're as dashing as ever."

"As a state official of the Free City of Kirkwall, I am here to join these two souls in legal and holy matrimony," Varric said then, and their friends took their seats. Aria noticed Anders was not present, and she felt a twinge of guilt within her gut. "You all are here to bear witness to the joining of Fenris and Aria Hawke. Given you two are about the least traditional people in existence, how you say your vows is up to you. Fenris, you start."

Fenris held both of her hands and looked her in the eyes. He nervously cleared his throat and took a deep breath. "It took me a long time to finally admit it to myself, but I've loved you almost from the instant I first saw you. You never gave up on me. You gave me hope when I thought all was lost. I've seen you endure much greater hardships, and still, nothing has ever held you down. You are my reason for breathing, my justification for existing. Everything I am, everything I have, is yours and yours alone, until my eyes close forever and I breathe no longer."

Tears welled in Aria's eyes and she fought them. Isabela would kill her if she ruined her make up this early in the ceremony. Aria squeezed his hands and Varric turned to her.

"He has proclaimed his vows and sworn his unconditional love to you. It's your turn," Varric solemnly stated.

Aria sniffled and nervously laughed before she pulled her racing thoughts and emotions together. "I knew you had greatness in you. I knew you were the most amazing, strong, dynamic person I'd ever meet in my life. And we've...we've had some tough times. I never would have made it through anything without you. And I'm humbled..." she swallowed the sob, "I'm humbled that you would choose me to live with and love the rest of your life. I fell for you almost the moment I first saw you and I've watched you grow. I'm proud of you. I love you. Everything I am, everything I have, is yours and yours alone, until my eyes close forever and I breathe no longer."

Varric draped the red ribbon Fenris normally wore over his wrist over both their hands and tied it loosely. "The vows have been spoken. This marriage has been declared. These two souls are now legally and spiritually bound," he said, then untied the knot and handed the ribbon to Aria.

She re-tied the ribbon to his wrist where he normally wore it and Fenris actually smiled that rare, full smile at her. He then turned to Varric as did she.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Varric chuckled. "Kiss already! There's a party waiting to happen!"

Aria leaned forward into Fenris's embrace and they kissed for the hundred-thousandth time, but this time, everyone saw. Their friends and family stood and cheered. When they pulled apart, Fenris tenderly thumbed the tears away from her eyes.

"I love you," he whispered, still holding her to him.

"I love you," Aria replied with a teary smile.

The doors to the tavern were opened and most of Kirkwall tried to cram in to see the newly weds. Many of the Lowtown regulars were excited to take advantage of the half-off drink specials Corff had set for the entire evening. Fenris and Aria greeted as many people as they could before the private party started in Varric's humble abode.

"So, how far along are you?" Gamlen asked once the doors to Varric's room had been officially closed. Aveline had two guards stationed outside the door to deter unwanted guests and ensure their privacy.

They all sat at Varric's table and tucked into the wedding feast. Aria and Fenris sat at the head of the table with Varric to Aria's right and Aveline on Fenris's left. Next to Varric was Isabela, then Gamlen, Bodahn, and Sandal. Next to Aveline was Donnic, naturally, then Merrill and Orana.

Aria blushed and Fenris squeezed her hand under the table. "Well Uncle, in roughly seven or eight months' time, give or take a month, you'll be a Great Uncle," she said at length.

Cheers erupted around the table and Isabela tapped her spoon against her glass. Several of their other companions mimicked her. Fenris and Aria kissed briefly, followed by more cheers. Varric stood after that and cleared his throat.

"You know, I always thought these two would end up together. And might I say, they're the second most perfect couple I've ever seen together!" the dwarf laughed, holding up his glass to them in salute.

"Then who is the most perfect couple?" Fenris rasped in challenge.

"Bianca and I, of course!"

Aveline stood then and lifted her glass to the newly weds. "I once asked them how they made it work. Aria said 'maybe we're not the best example'. Hawke, I have to say, on that instance, you were wrong. I've never seen two souls work harder to be together and sincerely love each other than the two of you."

"Here here!" Donnic seconded his wife's toast.

"So... You are pregnant?" Merrill chimed then, once they'd started eating.

"Yes, Merrill. But it's not something I want many people to know yet, for many reasons," Aria candidly replied to the Dale's query.

"It'll be the most beautiful baby ever born," Merrill laughed.

"That's only because Bianca can't bear children," Isabela chortled, elbowing Varric playfully,

He chuckled good-naturedly. "They'd better be thankful of that. Though, I did once tell Fenris that any children he and Birdie have together will eternally scare the piss out of me."

"Oh, why's that?" Aveline asked, seeing it as a slight against the newly weds.

"Think about it. Birdie and the elf? Kirkwall's two most lethal people? Any child they have is going to grow up with some serious natural combat ability," Varric glibly answered.

"Hopefully he'll never need combat skills," Aria said then.

"I'll drink to that," Aveline said, and they all toasted.

"Ok, seriously, enough baby talk. We just got married. Let's celebrate that," Aria laughed.

After a few hours of revelry and drinking, Fenris and Aria were escorted to their carriage from Varric's secret escape route. They went back to Hightown to Aria's estate. Bodahn, Sandal, and Orana had already returned home and done some decorating of their own. There were white rose petals leading up to Aria's bedroom, a bunch of new scented candles present throughout the home, and when Fenris carried her over the threshold into her room, she found more of the candles and rose petals. The bed's sheets had been turned down and was also covered with the flowers.

"I'll help Orana clean this up in the morning," Aria whispered as Fenris set her down.

He laughed quietly, a pleasing raspy rumble. "Just enjoy it, Aria."

"Did you set this up?" she asked as he began to undress her.

"I might have had a hand in it," Fenris softly replied, planting kisses across her now bare shoulders.

Aria sighed. "It is lovely..."

He guided her hands in undoing his armour. "That's more like it."

"Good day, Champion," a templar said as Aria walked across the Lowtown Bazaar towards the Hanged Man. Aria nodded in greeting but hardly paid him any mind. She jumped when he grabbed her hand. "If I may, Captain Cullen asked me to give this to you."

Aria took the parchment, murmured her thanks, and hurried off. The nobles in Hightown had been going crazy ever since they weren't formally invited to her wedding and now there was talk of a baby shower, since the rumour was that she was pregnant. She knew at least 99% of them wouldn't dare follow her into the Hanged Man and the remaining 1% that would, Varric would never allow into his room. It was one of the few places Aria could go to escape.

Her pregnancy was getting harder to hide. Her armour no longer fit over her slightly protruding belly and wearing the breastplate even with the adjustments... It felt too confining and didn't let her move enough. She hated how tight and full her breasts felt and the fact that she suddenly had to pee every half an hour anymore. The midwife she'd found was another apostate, but given Aria's reputation with the underground, no one worried she would turn in the midwife to the templars. Aria and Anders hadn't spoken but in polite greetings ever since his Justice incident when he realized she was with child.

The midwife said it was another boy, and that thus far, in her fourth month of pregnancy, the baby was very healthy. Aveline employed Aria to train the guardsmen in close-quarters, hand-to-hand combat while the more taxing things people asked of her were handled by Fenris, Varric, and whomever else they took with them.

They had retrieved several lost Qunari swords for the stragglers who still existed in the city. They had cleared out several bands of burgeoning crime guilds both in the city and on the Wounded Coast. They had even rescued some nobleman's daughter from a gang on the Wounded Coast, though Fenris said something about Feynriel being involved, which struck all of them as odd. Apparently he'd been accessing her dreams through the Fade and they were in love.

Aria bounded up the steps into the Hanged Man and headed straight for Varric's room, waving to those who greeted her in the tavern as she passed. Isabela was hot on her heels. They went in and closed the door. Varric was sitting at his table with a sprawl of several scrolls in front of him. He looked up from his work and sighed.

"I've almost got the contracts drawn up for taking half ownership of this place," he chortled, motioning for them to sit.

Aria took the time then to read the scroll handed to her by the templar. It was from Knight-Commander Meredith. She had lost track of three mages, reputed to be blood mages, imagine that. She was asking for Hawke's help in finding them. Aria groaned and tossed the parchment to Varric.

"Rounding up three blood mages, hmm? How hard could it be?"

"Tell that to my husband," Aria groused, reaching for the pitcher of freshly squeezed pineapple, orange, and cherry juice Varric had taken to keeping on hand for her visits.

Isabela giggled at that. "I still haven't gotten used to you calling him your husband. Nor he calling you his wife." The pirate then took the liberty of smoothing her hand over Aria's belly. "What are you going to name him?"

"We haven't actually given it much thought yet," Aria grunted, situating herself in the chair more comfortably. She took a long, appreciative drink of the juice.

"There's still time, Rivaini. I have it on good authority his middle name will be Varric," Varric chuckled then.

Aria laughed at this. "Perhaps. But unlikely."

"So, we're going after blood mages. Probably should bring Blondie and Daisy then," Varric said as he read over the letter again.

Aria glowered. "Blood mages. I doubt all of them are," she said.

"You're probably correct there," Varric agreed.

"Just bring Anders. You haven't taken me with you on an adventure in forever," Isabela interjected.

"You want to deal with recapturing or killing blood mages?" Varric scoffed.

"If it means doing something other than sitting around this sodding tavern all day, yes," Isabela retorted.

Aria laughed at this. "Have you broken all of the available fingers?"

Isabela gave her a sly smile, "And more."

"You're rotten," Aria giggled.

"To the core, sweet thing," Isabela chortled, rubbing Aria's belly again. "You hear that, precious? Auntie Isabela is going to teach you a thing or two about the world."

"Just wait until he's of legal age, would you?" Aria jibed.

"Not those types of things!" Isabela said, for a rare instant, horrified.

"You just said you're rotten to the core, I was just covering all the bases," Aria laughed.

"Your mother is just as rotten, you better believe it," Isabela said to Aria's belly.

Varric covered his ears. "I'm not hearing any of this."

Isabela took her leave then while Aria and Varric hashed out details of where to start looking for the fugitives. They both agreed Darktown was a likely place, while the de Launcet mansion was another great start, as one of the rumoured blood mages was highborn and his family had an estate near Fenris's.

"Birdie, we can handle this. Stop fretting so much," Varric chuckled as Aria launched into tactics and started mapping out choke points and blind areas on the maps in front of them.

Aria sighed and leaned back in her chair, then grunted as the being growing inside her moved slightly. She rubbed her belly absent-mindedly, her eyes darting over the maps for the hundredth time in the past half hour.

"I can't take this anymore," she softly said.

Varric laughed quietly. "You're just under halfway, and things are going to change even more when that child is born."

"If I survive childbirth," Aria darkly stated.

"You knock that off right now. Women give birth successfully all the time. You've got a great midwife and you're stronger than any other woman in the Free Marches. You'll be fine," Varric gently reprimanded her. He stood and put his hand on her shoulder. "You seriously haven't thought of a name yet?"

"I'm afraid I'm not all that creative. And Fenris doesn't want a Fenris or Leto junior. So there's that," Aria replied. "I honestly don't get all this celebration of pregnancy. You feel like crap. You get fat. People treat you like you're made of...of...I don't know. Crusty, crumbly pastry that'll fall apart at any moment. You get mad for no reason, you cry for no reason..."

Varric laughed robustly at this and sat back down next to her. "I'll take your word for it. Just don't blame the elf entirely."

Aria sighed again. "I don't... Blame him. It's not about blame; it's about feeling like you're trapped in someone else's body and you can't do the things you want to or used to do."

There was a knock on the door then. Varric answered it, letting in Fenris, Aveline, Donnic, and Isabela. Fenris strode over to Aria immediately. He dropped to a knee next to her chair and placed a hand on her belly while taking possession of her mouth with his.

Aria hated and loved that about him—he could render her brains nothing more than hot jelly with his kisses. He pulled away just enough to look into her eyes. She caressed his cheek and smiled bashfully as his hand continued to circle over her belly. He kissed her soundly again, then bent to kiss the bump that was starting to show.

"Isabela said something about blood mages," Fenris said once he tore himself away from his pregnant new wife.

Aria rolled her eyes and deferred to Varric, who chuckled, then cleared his throat. "This came for Hawke today. Obviously she can't exactly tend to it," the dwarf said as he handed the letter to the elven warrior first, who read it and passed it on to Aveline.

"We should start in Darktown," Aveline said as she passed the letter to Donnic. She looked briefly at Hawke with something just shy of contempt.

Fenris sat next to Aria and drew one of her hands to rest in his on his thigh. "Obviously. The noble-born, we should check in Hightown for. How often do the templars think to ransack noblemen's houses?"

"Agreed. Emile de Launcet will most likely be there. His mother is a bit of a...twat," Aveline voiced her opinion. "Huon... The elf... He probably went to Darktown or even the alienage. I'm pretty sure he'd seek out his wife. I've seen his name before on past cases. The Fereldan, she's certainly got to be in Darktown with the other refugees."

"We need to get Anders on this," Varric diplomatically stated.

Fenris snarled silently and held Aria's hand tighter. She squeezed back and leaned over to whisper in his ear, "Please take him with you. You'll need him. And be merciful if you can."

The warrior straightened and nodded once at Aria. "Send for him. We start as soon as he gets here."

Varric rang for Norah and she sent one of the urchin boys up. Varric relayed the message and the boy ran down the stairs. Aveline and Donnic sat across from Aria and Fenris at the table, while Isabela took the other end. Aveline looked over the maps sprawled in front of Aria.

"You've been planning," the carrot-topped woman said after a moment.

"It's all I'm good for about now," Aria groused.

"It's only going to get worse," Aveline flatly stated.

"Love, what in the Maker's gotten into you?" Donnic reprimanded, his visage shocked.

Aria stood abruptly and kissed Fenris sweetly on the mouth before she made for the door. "Do be careful this evening," she said to all of them before she took her leave.

She walked down the stairs, not surprised in the slightest that Fenris quickly shadowed. He took her arm and they left the tavern together. He didn't say anything until they reached the Hightown steps.

"She's just jealous, you know," he rasped, his arm going about her waist as she climbed the steps.

"Is that what it is?" Aria quietly asked. "I'm so weary of her."

"Trust me... I know jealousy. And she is green with it."

Aria was quiet as they clambered up the steps. Well, she clambered. Or rather, lumbered, more like. In reality she'd only gained about ten pounds, but it was all in her belly and she hated how engorged she felt. Fenris was just as lethally lithe and graceful as ever beside her, and his visage was stern and worrisome. Aveline had been right; it was only going to get worse. But not in the ways the guard-captain had thought.

"I've always done right by that stubborn, uppity, prudish bitch. You think she'd give me a break. I've saved her rotten life countless times. She claims to be my friend, but when I really need one, she's nowhere to be found. Isabela's a far better friend, and that's saying something," Aria huffed once they cleared the top step and started across the Hightown bazaar.

Fenris chuckled. "It is indeed."

"Let's stop a moment. I need to...breathe," Aria implored.

He stood in front of her and his hand smoothed protectively over her belly. "She and Donnic have been trying to have a child since the night they were married. She's even been taking the fertility potions Anders concocts. All to no avail as yet."

Aria covered his hand with hers and looked into his eyes. "It's not like I haven't earned it. Any of it. I've cried, bled, and sweated for everything I have. I've... Lost more than she could ever understand. I'm not trying to compete. I'm not trying to...make myself sound better or worse. But she can take her spiteful jealousy and shove it."

Fenris drew her to him and lovingly took brief possession of her lips with his. He rested his forehead on hers, his fingers entangled in the hair at the nape of her neck, and he looked deeply into her eyes. "She doesn't matter. Don't let her get to you."

Aria laughed a short, bitter laugh. "When did you become so wise?"

He kissed her again, then said, "My wife had much to do with it."

"Don't you suck up to me," Aria giggled, slapping his shoulder playfully, minding the spikes of his armour.

He chuckled and they started walking towards Aria's mansion once more. People greeted them as they passed, several stopping them to inquire about Aria's obvious state of health. He led her to the door and Bodahn was there as soon as they opened it.

"Ah, the master and the mistress return!" the dwarven manservant cheerily said as he took Aria's cloak.

"Just the mistress for now," Fenris stated. He kissed Aria once more and turned for the door. She stood in the foyer and he read the longing for the fight in her eyes. "Soon enough, it'll be both of us going."

"Be careful. Don't kill Anders. I love you," Aria gently commanded.

"I can promise the first and the last thing, but the second thing... No promises," Fenris growled in response. "I love you. Rest. I'll be home as soon as I can."

Aria watched him disappear out the door and Bodahn threw the bolts in place to lock it. He turned to Aria and smiled. "You look weary, mistress. Orana has some venison and rabbit stew on. Should be ready any minute," the kindly dwarf said as he ushered her to the chair next to the hearth.

"That would be lovely. Thank you," she softly replied, checking the letters on the desk. Few things were of any import.


	55. Chapter FIFTY-FOUR

**Chapter FIFTY-FOUR**

"Oooh, don't, mistress! I'll take care of that!" Orana cried from the other side of the garden.

"Orana, please, it's Aria."

"Sorry, Aria. I just—don't want you to hurt yourself."

Aria grunted and gave up on pulling the enormous weed she'd been tugging on for the past ten minutes. She sat on one of the low benches. Sat probably wasn't the right word. More like... Squatted. She winced as the child inside her kicked her bladder in retaliation for her exertions. Aria mopped the sweat off her brow with her gown's sleeve and looked up at the sky.

It was a clear, hot day and summer was well upon them. She'd grown restless and went outside to tend the garden with Orana. It had been hard to sit still at all the past few days. The elven girl had planted many new rose and vine varieties, and Aria was keen on helping maintain what her mother had started. Sandal and Bodahn trimmed the hedges and polished the marble statues.

Aria's feet were achy and swollen. Her back ached. Her belly was the size of a large pumpkin and every bit as hard. Just as she began to rub at it, the baby kicked her in the ribs. She swatted at it. "You just pipe down, sir. I'll have none of that just now, thank you very much!"

She felt rather than heard the low rumble that was Fenris's amused chuckle. Aria lifted her head and saw him standing on the back veranda, watching her from the shade. He strode towards her then, a look of concern replacing the previous one of mirth.

"You should go inside. You look ill," the elven warrior quietly said as he helped her stand.

"It's this...bloody heat and this... Overly active baby. He's kicking the tar out of my insides today."

"Perhaps we should summon the midwife. She said any day now."

"She's been saying that for two weeks and nothing's changed," Aria countered as she waddled up the steps into the estate. She sighed. It was blessedly cool.

"All the more reason I worry," Fenris replied, helping her to a seat on the sofa in the back study by the garden. He sat next to her and held his hand over her belly. The baby kicked at the pressure and Fenris chuckled. "I think he's ready."

"I think I'm ready," Aria grunted.

"Hello! Anyone home? I knocked for ages but—Oh, there you are," Varric's voice sounded in the hall, then he came into view in the doorway. "I saw an interesting arrival today."

Aria waved him in and he sat in one of the overstuffed armchairs across from them. "What was that?" she asked.

"It would seem the King of Ferelden docked this morning," Varric glibly replied. "He's on his way to the Keep, but I heard him ask his entourage to go on without him."

"Was there an elven woman with him?" Fenris asked.

"Come to think of it there was," Varric said. "Black hair, tall for an elf, easy on the eyes too."

Aria groaned again and threw her head back over the head rest so she stared at the ceiling. "Perfect timing."

"Friends of yours?" Varric chuckled.

Aria suddenly sat forward and bit back the cry that threatened to escape her throat. She felt like all of her innards had just violently contorted around themselves. "Fenris... About that midwife," she gasped. "I think now is a good time to fetch her."

"Orana!" Fenris bellowed, and a split second later the young elven woman appeared, eyes shining with worry. "The midwife. And... Anders. Send for Anders."

Orana bolted away before Fenris had finished speaking. Bodahn and Sandal appeared a split second later. Bodahn instructed Sandal to put all four of the large kettles on the hearth in Aria's bedroom. He assisted Fenris in getting Aria to her feet, and Fenris swept her in his arms.

"I'm too...too...heavy," Aria panted in protest as he carried her up the stairs.

"Shut it. You're not," he replied as he made it to the landing. He gently set her down and they slowly walked across the landing to their bedroom. "See? Carried you just fine," Fenris said, out of breath.

"Yes and you just about killed yourself doing it."

Just before they reached the door, another spasm hit her and she felt as though she were being rent in two. She doubled over and wet heat spilled down her legs. She ground her teeth and fought through the terrifying pain that gripped her by clinging to Fenris. He held her to him, wincing as her fingers dug mercilessly into his biceps.

Bodahn saw the pool forming beneath her and ran to fetch some towels. "Easy mistress, let's just get you comfortable. This is all natural, don't you worry. I've seen children born before and this is no different."

Aria just nodded tensely but her entire body seemed to relax again, except this time, she was hardly able to walk. The pain was so severe that when it abated, she felt absolutely exhausted. She leaned on Fenris as he finished leading her into the bedroom. She sat down on one of the chairs and rubbed her enormously protruding belly in trepidation. Fenris stuck his hands up to his shoulders in the enormous kettles and flared his brands so brightly, she could hardly see him within the light. He repeated this with the other two kettles and soon the bathwater was ready. He poured two of them into the tub, then walked back over to Aria, who was struggling to remove her day gown.

"Let me," he gently said when she swatted his hands away. "Just stop being so bloody stubborn for one moment."

Aria huffed her displeasure, but the action sent another contraction ripping through her, this one far worse than the previous two. She couldn't contain the sudden cry and tears started to roll down her face. Fenris grit his teeth and ended up tearing the gown. He tossed it across the room and helped her finish removing the rest once the pain had subsided for the moment.

Fenris lifted her naked form and deposited her gently into the tub. She leaned back and drew her knees up slightly, alleviating the pressure in her hips. He dragged a chair over and sat next to her, taking her hand in his. Worry lines deeply furrowed his brow and his eyes were bright with fear.

"I'll be fine," she whispered, reaching up with her free hand to swipe his shaggy silver bangs out of his eyes.

"If this is what happens every time, I won't ever ask you to have another again," he murmured, his voice cracking slightly.

Aria laughed wearily at this. "You're worth it. Our baby's worth it."

"You say that now," Fenris nervously chuckled.

A knock sounded at the door then, and it opened slightly. "I'm going to wait downstairs for Anders and the midwife. I'm guessing you're going to have a lot of company soon too, so I'll entertain them," Varric said through the crack.

"Thank you, Varric," Aria replied as loudly as she could, fearing that speaking too loud would send her into another vicious contraction.

"My pleasure, madame. Good luck!" He closed the door and they listened to his footsteps fade down the hall.

Aria stroked Fenris's face lovingly as he gazed down at her. He cupped the water and spilled it over her belly, his eyes never leaving hers. The bell pull rang and both of them were startled enough to jump. They listened as Varric answered the door and heard him usher what sounded like several people inside.

"I think the King is here," Fenris quietly said.

"Great. Royal guests and I'm having a baby," Aria flatly replied.

"This is your Kingdom, not theirs," Fenris growled, kissing the top of her head.

"I don't thi-" but the words turned into another choked scream as Aria grit her teeth and her back arched violently. This one was even worse yet and she didn't know if she could take it anymore.

Just as the contraction abated, a soft knock sounded at the door. It opened slightly. "Mistress?" Orana's sweet, timid voice greeted them. "The midwife is here. I'll have Anders stay with the guests unless he's needed."

"Thank you, Orana," Aria and Fenris said in unison.

Brecinia, the midwife, strode purposefully to the tub and began setting up a table full of herbs, ointments, jars, cloths, and instruments that looked ominous to the untrained eye. She was a woman who looked but a few years older than Aria. She had jet black hair that she kept quite short, like Bethany's was, and her dark grey eyes spoke of boundless wisdom, wisdom that was eons beyond her age. She'd said she was in her sixties when they asked her age upon meeting. The only reason Aria believed her was because her eyes spoke the truth.

"Alright, Hawke. I'm not going to lie to you, this is going to be about ten times worse than when you felled that horn-head king," Brecinia said as she took off her long-sleeved shirt. She was now just wearing a tank top undershirt and a long, red suede skirt. She strode over to the tub and plunged her arms into the water, ascertaining how far Aria was dilated. "Ah, yes. You're blessed. He'll be a quick birth. Painful, but quick. He'll be here by nightfall, I guarantee it."

Aria nodded tersely at the invasion of personal privacy, but she was a doctor of sorts and Fenris was quite familiar with Aria's anatomy. Still, it irked her that someone else be so privy to her privates. Brecinia started grinding up several different herbs and mixing in a couple different liquids. She sloshed it all together in a tea kettle, filled it the rest of the way with water, and hung it over the coals.

When she returned, she took a couple if vials full of iridescent blue liquid from her bag. She plunged a needle into the first vial and drew all of the liquid out. The needle she'd used was terrifyingly large. She plunged it into the second vial and drained that as well.

"This will numb you from the waist down," Brecinia said. "But only if you want it. Most women decline. They're stupid. No sane person willingly endures this much pain when there's an alternative available," Brecinia said, tapping the syringe cylinder with her nail.

"That's going...where?" Aria asked, wide-eyed and terrified. Before the midwife could answer, Aria doubled over again and this time, the water turned slightly pink as the contraction gripped her. She took the cloth Brecinia offered and bit down on it, thankful for anything to help brace herself without hurting Fenris's poor, crushed hand.

While Aria was still in the contraction's steely, mind-numbing grip, Brecinia turned her and jammed the needle into her spine, just below the middle of her back. Aria screamed into the rag and closed her eyes, her breathing ragged. But a moment later, the pain was completely gone. She couldn't feel anything past her belly button.

"Oh... Oh that's so much better," she breathed, slumping down farther in the tub.

Fenris flared his brands on the hand he rested against the tub to warm the water again, then gently squeezed the hand of hers he still held. She smiled wanly up at him, and when her eyes shifted back to the water, she recoiled. It was a much darker shade of pink.

"It's ok," Brecinia softly stated, fetching the kettle from the hearth. She sprinkled a few leaves of some strange plant with which Aria was not familiar and put it back to boiling. "Birthing is a bloody process, Hawke."

Aria chuckled at the double meaning. "Yes, yes it is. When do I start actually pushing?"

"When you feel pressure. There will be little to no more pain," Brecinia quietly replied, fussing with some of her instruments. One looked like a big pair of very sharp shears.

Aria rolled her eyes. "Great." That's when she felt the tremendous pressure. She fought to breathe, but Brecinia stood next to the tub and showed her how.

"Like this," the midwife said, then inhaled in quick bursts, followed by a long exhale. "Now push."

Aria pushed as hard as she could while Brecinia pulled the plug on the tub. She let the water drain about halfway, and by that time another contraction hit Aria.

"Push, child," Brecinia softly said.

Aria pushed again, this time starting to feel a slight bit of pain in her hips. Another contraction hit a minute later and she pushed again. Brecinia kept coaching her, pushing, then resting, pushing then resting. After about an hour, Aria was exhausted but the baby's head was crowning. Fenris had poured half of one of the remaining two kettles into the bath to refresh the water.

"Ok, here comes the hardest part," Brecinia gently warned her, and she grabbed a smaller set of wicked-keen shears. Aria averted her eyes as she heard rather than felt the woman shift her legs farther apart. She felt a slight bit more pressure at the vee between her thighs and Fenris squeezed her hand while looking away. Another contraction hit. "Push, girl. Push."

Aria pushed again, as hard as she could and she felt her hip crack with the effort. Dull pain lanced through her and she clenched her teeth, her breath hissing between them. Another contraction. Another push. Still more pain. The elixir she'd been injected with was rapidly wearing off.

Brecinia tugged between Aria's legs. "Keep pushing. Don't stop now," she gently commanded, her voice like ice water on a hot day.

Aria pushed again and again, fighting the screams of agony that sought release from her throat with the incredible pain inundating her senses. Nearly an hour passed and finally... Aria heard the keening of a newborn. She looked down, and there he was: Screaming his lungs out at this foreign sensation of cold, open air.

Tears streamed down her face as she watched Brecinia quickly towel him off, removing the gore and sticky fluids from his face, then his body. Brecinia gave the larger shears to Fenris and indicated where he would need to cut on the cord that still bound his son to his mother. He took them with shaking hands and took three long, steadying breaths before he made the cut.

Brecinia went straight to work bandaging the small stump still on the baby's belly, then swaddled him in one of the many blankets Aria and Fenris had put aside just for this occasion. She handed the babe to his mother while she drained the tub again.

Aria held him, and as soon as his eyes opened and met hers, he stopped crying. Aria couldn't help the torrents running down her face and Fenris sat beside them in awe. He reached out and gently brushed his fingers across the baby's countenance.

He was beautiful. His cheeks were round and pink, though he seemed to have taken Aria's pale colouring. He had wisps of silvery-white hair curling sparsely all over his head. His eyes were still cloudy and bluish, and Aria wondered what colour they'd eventually be. His ears had slightly pointed tips to them, a dead giveaway of his parentage. He couldn't seem to take his eyes from Aria's face and Aria couldn't look away from him either.

"A most beautiful babe I e'er did see," Brecinia said then, tears shining in her own eyes. "Go on, see if he'll take the breast. We've still got to worry about the placenta, and that's messy business."

Aria shifted the babe and placed him so that his mouth touched her nipple. He made sucking noises with his lips, until finally he drew it far enough to start feeding. Aria gasped at the foreign sensation and her eyes finally met with Fenris's.

He had been crying as well, and he smoothed his palm over the back of the babe's head as he fed noisily. There were no words for this feeling. This woman... She'd officially given him everything. She'd broken his chains. She'd brought him back from the brink of damnation and a life of eternal hate. She'd fought for him, bled for him, cried for him, and the most profound, the most wonderful thing of all... She'd loved him. She'd loved him so much that she'd bound herself to him for all eternity and used her body to create for him living proof of her love for him, and of his love for her.

"He's...beautiful," she whispered as she cradled the feeding newborn closer to her breast.

"You're beautiful," Fenris also whispered, tilting her face up. He kissed her deeply for but a moment, then pulled away when Aria suddenly shifted.

Brecinia was tugging gently on the remnants of the cord. Aria almost lost her stomach when the placenta sloshed into view. The midwife snatched it up and deposited it in one of the vats she'd brought with her. She put the lid on the vat and shoved it towards the door.

The baby let go of her breast then and Brecinia instructed Aria on how to burp him. Once the babe had released his gas, Aria handed him to Fenris for the first time.

"Hold your son," she quietly said, tears starting to flow again.

He gingerly took the swaddled infant and held him to his chest, rocking him gently back and forth. He turned and went to the bed, where he sat, just rocking and staring down at his son, who looked as though he'd fallen asleep in his father's arms. Fenris just watched him, awestruck.

"We've got some healing to do child, and then you can wash up so you can present that beautiful child to the world," Brecinia said then.

Aria felt the familiar healer's light wash through her entire body. Her hip had broken to give way for her son and that was repaired. The flesh that had torn for him to be born was repaired. The wounds in her womb were repaired. Then Brecinia unplugged the tub once more, let it drain, and refilled it with the remaining water from the hearth. She gathered her things and quickly took her leave, parting with some instructions for Aria and Fenris regarding her health and that of the baby within the first few weeks. Both new parents thanked her profusely, Fenris gave her double the payment they'd agreed upon, and the midwife left the room. Aria could hear Bodahn speaking with her as he led her to the safe passage to Darktown in the lower parts of the estate. In her wake, the din of many voices filtered up the stairs.

"What are we naming him?" Fenris asked after a few moments.

Aria was washing her hair. She smiled over at him and replied, "What do you think of Tristan? Tristan...Malcolm?"

Fenris chuckled at this and looked back at the babe. "Tristan Malcolm Hawke. It is a good, strong name."

Aria smiled at this and rinsed her hair. She scrubbed her body head to toe, then quickly rinsed. Fenris placed Tristan in his pram to sleep, and helped his weary wife out of the tub. He helped dry her off and then assisted her with donning clean clothes. She slid her feet into her favourite new rabbit fur slippers, then piled her hair up in its normal ornate bun. She had intended to go down and greet everyone, but the room was beginning to spin and her legs, lower spine, belly, and female organs were starting to catch up with the trauma as the pain killers wore off.

Aria stumbled to the bed and sat down so hard that she nearly bounced off. Fenris was there in a heartbeat. He steadied her, then gently pushed her to a comfortable sitting position on the bed. He covered her legs with one of the throws and propped pillows behind her.

"You've just given birth. Rest," he whispered next to her ear, his lips brushing her neck.

"There are so many people here though," she protested softly.

"They can come to you. Do you want to hold our son while I inform them?"

Aria grinned at this and nodded vehemently. Fenris went across the room and gingerly picked Tristan out of the pram. He smiled down at the tiny babe, who hadn't stirred from his slumber when his elven warrior father scooped him up. Fenris rocked him gently and carried him to Aria. The baby stirred and opened his eyes when he felt Aria's touch. Aria just stared back at him, unable to look away. They were still bluish and filmy, but she thought she saw a hint of green beneath. She smiled at this and then laughed when Tristan mimicked her.

Aria hadn't even realized that Fenris had gone until a knock sounded on the door frame. King Alistair and Lady Ysabel stood there, the elven warrioress's eyes misted. They both strode quickly in and Aria shifted so they could see the baby's face.

"Oh! He's absolutely stunning!" Ysabel gushed, sitting next to Aria on the bed. "May I touch him?"

Aria nodded, and the King's consort gently stroked his downy head. Alistair beamed at both of them, his smile downright goofy.

"It isn't every day a Champion gives birth," the King awkwardly said at length.

Aria giggled at this and when Tristan flailed his arms at Ysabel, she handed the infant to the elven woman. Ysabel stood and cradled him for a moment. Then, she paced slowly around the room, cooing to him in elvish. Alistair watched her, a sad light taking his eyes.

"What is it?" Aria quietly asked.

"We... Won't ever be able to have children. When you become a Warden, if you don't make a baby fairly quickly following the Joining, you lose the ability," he murmured in response.

"I'm... I'm so sorry," Aria replied, taking the King's hand.

He squeezed hers back in response and kept watching his love walk around the room, talking to the baby and rocking him. Tristan made gurgling noises in response to her talking and flailed his tiny arms. Ysabel turned and smiled at them, tears misting her eyes.

"He's absolutely precious!" Ysabel quietly cooed, letting his fingers close around her pinky.

Fenris cleared his throat as he re-entered the room, Aveline, Donnic, and Varric in tow. Ysabel laughed and gave Tristan back to his mother. King Alistair and Ysabel took seats in the easy chairs near the hearth while the most recent guests went over to the bed.

Tristan stared up at Aria, not seeing anyone else around him yet. He flailed his arms at her and she brought him close enough that he could touch her face. He made more gurgling noises and kept his eyes on hers. After a moment, she gently lowered him so that the rest of the group could see him.

Aveline gasped when she finally saw his face. "Oh, Hawke... I don't think I've ever seen a more beautiful baby," she reverently said.

"He's going to be every bit the heartbreaker both his parents are," Donnic laughed, his arm going around his wife's waist as he pulled her to him.

"Heartbreaker and headcrusher. It's a good combination," Varric jibed good-naturedly. "Gorgeous kid, you two. Hopefully the next is a girl and just as beautiful."

Fenris paled. "One is enough, I think."

Everyone laughed at this, including Aria. Varric, ever the one for attention to detail, decided to press the issue.

"With as perfect as he is? C'mon! You've got to want to have a herd of them!"

"I never wish to see her in that much pain ever again. Especially when I'm half the reason it happened," Fenris quietly, but icily, replied.

Aria smiled wanly at him, her skin still very pale and there were hollows under her eyes. She looked absolutely exhausted. "I'd do it again. For you. For us," she murmured. "I'd do it again in a heartbeat."

Fenris sat on the other side of the bed next to her and rested his arm about her shoulders. He looked down at his son, who had jerkily turned his wobbly head to face his father. He flailed his arms and Aria handed him over.

"We'll leave you in peace. Besides, there's a celebration going on downstairs. I had Sandal fetch a couple barrels of my private reserves a while ago," Varric said then, ushering Donnic and Aveline out.

As soon as they left, Gamlen, Isabela, Merrill, Orana, Bodahn, Sandal, and yes, Anders, all came in to see the new arrival. Fenris carried his son over to them and allowed Gamlen to hold him first. Gamlen walked around the room, speaking gibberish to the boy, while the others crowded in around Aria.

Anders was closest to her and he took her hand, his eyes pleading and haunted. "I know Brecinia is an excellent physician, but for my own peace of mind, may I check to be sure she healed you well?"

Across the room next to Gamlen, Fenris growled. No one else seemed to notice, or maybe Aria was just that finely tuned to her husband. She nodded her consent and Anders bent over her, his hands smoothing over her belly. He glowed with the healer's aura and Aria felt that familiar, soft, wonderful heat wash over her. After but a few seconds, he pulled away and smiled.

"You're perfectly healed. Just need rest and eat a nutrient rich diet. You're still feeding two," he cheerily said, and backed away so that the others could get close.

"Oh mistress, you look so very tired," Orana lamented, smoothing her hand over Aria's forehead.

"Orana, it's Aria," Aria laughed quietly. "I'll be fine. I am a bit hungry, but I'll eat in a while."

"My apologies. Aria. The babe is...he's the most lovely thing I've ever set my eyes on," the elf girl said, blushing as she looked over at the newborn in Gamlen's arms. "What's his name?"

"Tristan Malcolm," Aria replied.

"That's a proper rogue's name," Isabela chortled, leaning forward to hug Aria. "I never thought you the mothering type, but making a babe like that... You make a damn beautiful child."

Aria laughed. "That seems to be the general consensus."

"He is... The most perfect baby I've ever seen," Merrill chimed then, reaching forward to squeeze Hawke's hand. "Tristan. It's a lovely name."

"Thank you, Merrill," Aria replied, returning the squeeze.

"I've got to agree, Aria, I've seen my fair share of newborns in my time, and that... He's by far the most beautiful," Bodahn said then, patting Aria on the shoulder.

"Baby pretty!" Sandal agreed.

Gamlen walked over to Aria and handed Tristan back to her embrace. The boy was sound asleep now, and nothing was going to wake him before he was ready. Gamlen's eyes were misted with unshed tears.

"Leandra would have just...burst if she'd gotten to see him," her uncle said, his voice hitching.

"You're welcome to visit any time, Uncle. You know that," Aria sweetly replied, fighting her own tears.

"I know, child. I will be over much more often now. Come, come, you lot. Give the mother and babe their peace. There's wine to be drunk and food to be eaten!" Gamlen said, clearing his throat and waving all of them out, including the King and his beloved.

They all bade them good night, and Orana promised to return with a big dinner for the new parents. Aria wanted a cask of wine in the worst way, but the midwife had warned against it. Still, whatever she consumed, went straight to her son. She felt a stab of selfishness, but looking down at that angelic face, it quickly went away. Fenris sat next to her as she rocked their son in her arms, in a trance as she couldn't look away from him.

"I keep wondering if I'm dreaming," he said at length.

Aria laughed quietly, handing their son to his father. "I just hope... Things stay calm."

Fenris nodded his agreement and carried Tristan back to his pram. He carefully laid the baby down and loosely covered him with a small fur blanket. Orana and Bodahn brought trays of food to them a moment later. There was venison and onions, a selection of cheeses, fruit, and wafers, a couple turkey legs, and some steamed broccoli, peppers, and potatoes. There was also a loaf of freshly made bread with pats of honey butter.

Aria drank the tea Brecinia had left her and tucked in to the wealth of food laid before her. She felt as though she could eat an entire ox. Fenris was just as famished, having not eaten at all that day. Once they'd finally had their fill, Fenris set the trays on the writing desk and joined Aria beneath the sheets. He held her to him as they both lay on their sides, looking over at where their son still slept soundly.

"I'll need to feed him again before I fall asleep," Aria drowsily said after several long moments of comfortable silence.

Fenris chuckled. "I'm sure he'll wake us when he's hungry."

"Yes, but I just want to get as much sleep as I can. He's not going to give us the leisure of a full night's sleep for a long time, I fear," she replied, turning In his embrace to face him.

He cradled her to him and kissed her, a long, deep, passionate kiss. When he pulled away to look into her eyes, he saw that tears shimmered in their corners. He thumbed them away, his expression sadly perplexed. "Why do you cry?"

Aria smiled and planted a soft, quick kiss on his mouth. "I'm just so... Happy and overwhelmed and... I love you."

Fenris quirked his trademark smirk at this and kissed her forehead. "I love you."

Tristan started fussing then and Fenris sprang up to fetch him from the pram. He handed the bundle to Aria, and she immediately put him to her breast. She blushed as Fenris sat beside them, his gaze intense. She'd never seen a look like that in his eyes before. It was passion and pride, love and awe, disbelief and happiness, all swirled together in a fierce light.

"You're flushed," Fenris whispered, smoothing his hand over Tristan's head as he suckled.

"It's just... Strange."

"What is?"

"Having you watch while I...feed him."

"Would you prefer that I not?" he asked, his tone hinting hurt.

"Oh, no. I didn't mean... I don't know what I meant," Aria softly said, her voice tired as she happily looked down at her feeding son.

"Seeing you... Seeing him... Watching you continually give life to him... I don't have words for it," Fenris said then, kissing her neck, then her ear. "I'm the most fortunate being in all the world."

Aria only smiled in response, the food in her belly and the exertions of earlier making it hard to stay awake much longer. As soon as Tristan released her breast, Fenris took him and held him over his shoulder. Aria fell asleep to the sight of her husband, yes—_her_ husband—caring for _their _son. As her eyes drifted closed, she couldn't imagine ever being happier than right at that very moment.


	56. Chapter FIFTY FIVE

**Chapter FIFTY-FIVE**

**A/N: **_Sorry for the appallingly long delay in updating and advanced apologies for how short it is. I've been working extremely long hours and have no internet connection yet in my new residence. New job in a new state, new living situation, new significant other who hopefully is my real life Fenris. Life has been crazy, but awesome! Now that I've managed to find some free time, here's the next chapter! Enjoy!_

"Aria! Aria wait!" a familiar voice called on a hoarse whisper from the shadows outside Fenris's mansion. Aria shifted the straps on the papoose-style pack that held Tristan fast between her shoulder blades. The 6-month-old baby cooed at the adjustment and tugged on a loose strand of Aria's hair.

Anders materialized next to them and the babe reached out for him, gurgling happily. Anders squeezed his outstretched hand with gentle brevity and turned to Tristan's mother.

"You're going to the Chantry?" he asked as he fell in stride next to the rogue.

"How'd you know?" Aria suspiciously countered, wincing as Tristan tugged her hair again.

"Bethany's due a shipment of flowers and herbs," Anders hedged. "I was wondering if I might ask a favour."

Aria stopped walking and looked sharply at him. "Why...do I feel like I'm going to regret this?"

"Oh, it's nothing much—there's just...a... Letter Hidden in the chantry behind the statue of the Maker. It's part of the mage underground. I just need you to keep the Grand Cleric busy while I retrieve it."

Aria looked him squarely in the eyes. "You're lying. You've never been a good liar. Not to me."

Anders sighed. "I can't tell you. You'd try to stop me."

"Well if I'd try to stop you if I knew, there's no way I'm helping you now," Aria testily stated, stalking towards the Keep instead of the Chantry.

Anders caught her arm and brought her to a jarring halt. Tristan giggled at the sudden movement. "Aria please! It does have to do with helping the mages. And I'll take full responsibility if anything goes awry."

Aria studied him for a good long moment, warring with herself. She had been a beacon of hope in the darkness that grew around the mage population in Kirkwall. But her instincts screamed at her that this was not going to have a happy ending for anyone.

"How would it help the mages?" she slowly said at length.

"It would free them from the yoke of the Knight-Commander."

"How?"

"Nevermind how! Dammit! I'm running out of time, Aria! Do you want to help your sister be free or not?" Anders hissed, quietly enough that onlookers wouldn't hear.

"It's your head?" Aria stated, rather than questioned, one brow arching for effect.

"Mine alone," Anders replied.

Tristan tugged her hair again and squealed. Aria disentangled the baby's fingers and sighed resignedly. "Come on then."

Distracting the Grand Cleric while Anders looked for his letter was easy enough. The elderly woman was quite taken with Tristan, and needled Aria about not having him christened yet. The baby had the same silvery-white hair of both of his parents, though his eyes were a deep crystalline green, just a shade or two darker than his father's. His ears came to slight points, as almost all progeny of elves did. Whenever Aria looked at her son, she saw so much of his father, and it made her heart sing. Fenris was extremely proud of the babe, and was quite devoted. This too made Aria's heart nearly burst with pride.

Anders rejoined her once his letter was found, and they went to the garden to procure Bethany's materials. To say Aria was cold to him would have been a nice statement.

"Why can't you understand that what I do, I do for the good of all?" Anders finally snapped at her when she refused to acknowledge him a fifth or sixth time.

Aria rounded on him, careful to keep her movements fluid so as not to upset Tristan. Not that it would have mattered—the boy was a daredevil. He'd already started crawling and was quite fast at it. Half a year old, and he was enough to wear both Aria and Fenris out. She secretly dreaded his learning to walk.

"You didn't tell me the truth. I don't like walking into a scheme blind."

"Tell her the truth about what?" the raspy baritone of her beloved said from under one of the many shade trees near them. Fenris appeared from the midday shadow and kissed his wife lightly on the forehead, then the top of his son's head.

"Nothing that concerns you," Anders venomously replied before he stalked out of the gardens, the burlap sack of Bethany's flowers and such slung over his shoulder.

Aria and Fenris watched him go, while Tristan gave a couple coughs as the mage disappeared. The baby was unnervingly fond of the mage. Fenris took him from his mother's back and gently tossed him in the air a couple times before he cradled the baby to his chest. Tristan squealed with glee and reached for the wolf pendant around his father's neck.

"What was that all about?" Fenris asked, watching the baby swat the pendant back and forth.

Aria sighed again and sat down on one of the nearby low benches. She rubbed at her neck. "He insisted on coming with me to the chantry today so that he could do something with the mage underground, or so he said." She felt the vibration in the air, rather than heard Fenris's low growl.

"And your part in it was?"

"Keeping the Grand Cleric occupied. Don't worry, it's his damn head. Not mine."

"Nothing ever just falls on Anders," Fenris darkly stated, bouncing a cooing Tristan up and down in his embrace.

"It's been too peaceful for too long. Anders is on edge. Reports are saying the conditions in the Gallows are getting worse by the day, and no one seems any the wiser to it. I feel like... We're living on a bowstring that's been stretched too tautly. And it's about to snap," Aria said, kicking a stone and watching it skitter down the cobbled path.

"We haven't been to Gamlen's in a while," Fenris attempted to lighten her mood. "He's always privy to some juicy Lowtown gossip."

Aria couldn't help but laugh at this. "And on the way back home, we can pester Varric. He does love Tristan."

"He spoils him," Fenris growled, brushing his nose against his son's. Tristan cooed and grabbed both of his father's ears, then bounced up and down in his arms. A little ways away, some noblewomen giggled and murmured to each other at the scene, their gazes adoring.

Fenris blushed and placed his son back in the sling on his mother's back when Aria refused to let him carry their child. She'd done it for nine months in her belly, having him between her shoulders was a relief. They nodded at the noblewomen as they passed.

Fenris had become nervous around the humans of higher social stature than he was, given his race. His reputation and that of his wife had catapulted both of them to near royalty status. When they could manage to find either or both of them, people followed and watched, looking for some tidbit to share at their afternoon teas. They could say they were close to the Champion and her husband, and make their rather worthless existence justifiable in that right. Once, he and Aria could breeze through the entire city completely unnoticed. Those days were long gone.

He ruminated then over the words Alistair, or rather, King Alistair, had said when they'd come to Kirkwall six months ago. War was coming. Orlais was on the verge of trying to take back Ferelden and the Knight-Commander Meredith grew battier by the day with her quests for blood mages in every corner. But that knowledge was a well-kept secret, and anyone with the slightest bit of smarts certainly didn't talk about it except in the most trustworthy of private company. Even Aveline was afraid of the woman. Raids were a common thing among families who had shown a proclivity for magic in the lines. The Hawke estate had as yet remained untouched, and that was most likely out of the fear of what Aria and he could do in a fight.

"You're brooding again. I've already had a broody baby in your honour. What's wrong?" Aria said as they bounded lightly down the steps into Lowtown.

"You listen to Varric too much. I'm not brooding," Fenris rasped, his arm slipping around his wife's waist once they cleared the steps.

"Yes you are," Aria giggled.

"We can't talk about it here," he gently warned, averting his gaze as they passed the shopkeepers.

"Alright," she conceded, wincing as Tristan found her hair again. It was one of his favourite playthings.

They made it to Gamlen's cottage and he was using the privy when they entered. Aria let Fenris take Tristan and she looked about the common room. The place was nothing like she remembered, and that was beyond being a good thing. She noted a letter open on one of the new tables, and she started reading it. Gamlen boomed at her as he exited the new restroom he'd had built onto his house.

"That note mentioned the gem of Keroshek. What's that?" Aria queried, undeterred

"Leave that alone. There are things in my life that don't actually involve you, you know. Stay out of my business, girl!" he yelled, snatching the note from Aria's hands. Tristan coughed and started to cry. Gamlen walked over to the crying babe and began cooing. "It's ok. It's ok. Unky didn't mean to upset you."

. "That note mentioned the gem of Keroshek. What's that?" Aria sighed. The note had called for Gamlen to bring some gem to Darktown.

"It's nothing, nevermind," Gamlen gruffly replied and crumpled the note up. He tossed it into the rubbish bin next to the new kitchen counter.

"If you're worried about who sent the note, I can go in your place," Aria offered. She winced at the low rumble she felt rather than heard. Fenris, of course, disapproved. Aria turned to him. "Oh come on. A couple lowly bandits in Darktown are hardly anything to worry about. Gamlen can watch his favorite nephew and we can deal with the scum."

"Did I ask for that?" Gamlen morosely asked. The anguish in his tone tugged at Aria's heart. "I don't know who sent it, and I don't want to. I lost everything chasing that gem... Our fortune, our home, even Mara."

"Who's Mara?" Aria softly asked, walking back to Fenris before she turned to face Gamlen again. Tristan cooed and giggled as she approached.

"She's... None of your concern, that's who she is!" Gamlen roared in response. "Why don't you head back to your fancy house in Hightown and stay out of my damned business!"

Aria sighed and Tristan whined. Fenris was stonefaced. "Fine, Uncle. If that's how you want to be." The family headed for the door.

"Don't go there, fool girl! I'm warning you!"

Aria turned back and winked at her uncle before closing the door after them.


End file.
